


Catalyst: a Prequel to the Nanny Affair

by EmmyRK



Category: Choices: Stories You Play, Choices: TNA, Choices: the Nanny Affair, PB Choices, PB Choices: the Nanny Affair, Pixelberry Choices, The Nanny Affair, The Nanny Affair (Visual Novel)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Catalyst: a Prequel to the Nanny Affair, Cheating, Chemistry, Engagement, F/M, Forbidden Love, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Prequel, Sex, Smut, single dad, tease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyRK/pseuds/EmmyRK
Summary: Before she ever noticed his alluring dark eyes...Before he ever caressed her dangerous curves...Before she ever tasted his intoxicating lips...Before he ever nibbled on her delicate skin...Before she became the nanny to his family...Before he fell in love with her...Brynn Schuyler was struggling to dust herself clean from her recent fall from glory when she finds herself in the prestigious office of the CMO at Dalton Enterprises. // Sam Dalton was slowly losing his grip of the control in his life-- all in the name money-- when an interview for a nanny threatened to change his life forever.What happens next is your choice to make; but for now, I choose to share what possibly could have happened before 'The Nanny Affair'.***Some of the characters, plots, and dialogue in the story are not mine, but rather the property of Pixelberry; this is not their vision of how the story unfolds, rather a creative interpretation between the sheets... I mean, scenes. Chances are that I will accidentally deviate from the original canon; I will edit when absolutely necessary. Please enjoy!
Relationships: Brynn Schuyler/Robin Flores, Brynn Schuyler/Sam Dalton, MC/Robin Flores, MC/Sam Dalton, Main Character/Sam Dalton, Sofia Russo/Sam Dalton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. Acquiesce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language

"Sam," she clears her throat, finally breaking the silence, "I--I just think this is for the best. For us both... For all of us--" she delicately places her petite hand on his arm, attempting to add more sentiment to her words. "--even our boys!" spills out of her crimson-stained lips like a bad punch-line.

_The best? For 'our boys'? Is she taking this decision seriously?_

He barely twitches the sides of his mouth into a smile, but his dimples are always ready to entertain. His chestnut eyes have flecks of amber that boast the power to melt even the coldest of hearts--possibly his secret weapon for his monstrous success as the chief marketing officer at Dalton Enterprises. Yet tonight they possess a mourning as they stare at the newly-introduced elephant in the room: a 5.5 carat emerald-cut Harry Winston diamond ring. Discarded, lacking luster.

_Do I pick it up? Do I insist that it's hers for keeps?_

"Maybe we should prepare a statement," She revs up again. He raises an eyebrow with curiosity. "Before the press catches wind of this, you know? Have the upper hand." Sam remains quiet, mindlessly nudging a wayward caper with a fork on his empty dinner plate.

As conflicted as he is mentally about the recent update to their relationship status, she has a valid point. Sam was fast-tracked to the public eye back in 2017 when he was voted as one of the 'Top 35 to Watch Under 35" in _Forbes Magazine_. He was initially proud to receive the national recognition for his hard work in growing his father's company. But, having his chiseled, handsome physique along with several indiscretions committed by close friends and family, the tabloids were incessant. Paparazzi had become a normal part of life.

He bobs his head slowly in agreement before his gaze fixates on her beauty. He inadvertently chews on his bottom lip, carefully discerning his words as to not cause another argument over this arrangement. He exhales a long, drawn-out sigh, making the candlelight furiously dance.

He clears his throat: "I think--"

"Oh!" she exclaims, clapping her hands in glee. "Did you see Daddy's email with the numbers?"

_Are you kidding me right now?_

He rakes his hands across his face; a grunt escapes deep in his throat.

_Please. Not here._

That doesn't stop her. "With the merger? If you reallocate 25% of the assets to marketing with the given trend, the revenue after one year--" she dramatically pauses, scoffing with dollar signs in her eyes _._

_Yes, we know. We know. It's more money than we made in the past 4 years. Why is it about money again? Always about the fucking money… This is more than a business transaction--we are more than a business transaction._

Her father, the president and CEO of his own multi-billion-dollar company, is a boisterous, ornery man; but then again, when your specialty is making the Benjamin's--and Paolo was _damn_ good at it--you can act like a complete jerk, and it's called being a 'good businessman'.Impossible to please, impossible to impress; he might actually lack the facial structure to express any type of emotion. He was a real treasure to the business world, but an absolute abusive nightmare behind closed doors.

Sam had a difficult time considering a marriage with her family; he already had enough demons reminding him he wasn't good enough. But somehow, Sam charmed 'Daddy' with his work ethic and ability to create and deliver money-making deals.

With only one immature, trouble-maker for a son, a self-proclaimed 'playboy,' naturally, everyone assumed that Paolo would leave the company to his oldest child--his daughter. But her marriage to Sam complicated his choice, not to mention Paolo's ancient, chauvinistic worldviews of women working outside of the home. The fate of his company teetered between matters of the heart--and that which mattered to his heart: money.

_If he still wants this merger-- shit, if I still want this merger… is it worth my marriage? My heart? My friend?_

"Do you think we should talk about, you know? Relocating your belongings? Our housing situation?" Her words are suffocating.

_Is it getting warm in here? The heater. Surely someone has turned on the heater--Jesus, Sam. Get. A. Grip. She is only talking about your home that you built--Oh God, water._

"The sooner we have a decision and a time frame--" She trails off. Maybe she was nervous; maybe she finally took notice to him panicking. She quickly downs the rest of her vintage Pontet-Canet as she watches a rosy-cheeked Sam pour water from a nearby glass carafe.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

The intense, awkward interaction is interrupted by his phone. It was normally turned off during dinner, but with the boys at home with the new nanny and the company being on the cusps of the Martindale agreement, his bluetooth earpiece wisely became a new appendage to his body

She pretends to inspect the diamond ring she had ejected onto the table earlier in the evening, but he knows better. She shifts her eyes, straining to see his caller ID. He sees the eyeroll, the hair flip. He hears the obvious sigh of annoyance when he answers the call.

"Hey, Kelli. Is everything okay? Whoa, whoa, whoa--slow down. He did--He did what now?"

_Damnit, Mickey._

Sam pinches the bridge of nose, the exchange continuing. "Yes. Yes. I understand--completely understand. I don't know how to get chocolate out of cashmere either. Oh! Present from your grandmother--oh. Your _dead_ grandmother."

She crunches up her eyebrows with shocking disgust and a large sigh as she begins to call Carter, the family driver. The evening was already over--truth be told, they should have left when she gave him the ring back.

After ending the call, Sam stands, extending his hand to assist her back onto her Louboutin stilts. A smile crawls across his face when he notices that she has taken the ring back; that is the most he could hope for right now. Maybe one day, hopefully someday soon, she would be proud to wear it.

Maybe she would even love him. He hopes he can learn to love again, too.


	2. Covalence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter contains language, sexually suggestive language, and mention to physical abuse, drug abuse, and adoption. Please be advised.

"Alright, Pine Shadow family, here are your finalists!" Principal Larson's voice booms over the gym speakers. One would think he's announcing a night of rough and rumble with the WWE rather than announcing the award winners for a middle school science fair. Regardless, his enthusiasm is contagious much to the science departments delight. "Let's give them a big Wildcat round of applause for all of their hard work!"

As the audience abrupts into cheers, there she sits, melting into her chair as her knees bounce feverishly in fear. Her French-braided hair accompanies a denim headband, keeping the stray strands of brilliant wheat out of her gray eyes. Against her mother's disgust, she picks at the rubberbands attached to the hardware in her mouth. In her young 12-year-old mind, the audience seems to be doubling--no, tripling in size.

She worries if her hard work will payoff with a shiny blue ribbon--if any ribbon at all. Mrs. Ferguson and Coach Kincaid gave her nods of approval when she created elemental silver from the glucose mixture and Tollen's reagent-- who wouldn't be impressed with a 6th grader with an advanced passion for chemistry? But still, she worries.

"And," the principal continues, "our first place winner is--" The anticipation thickens the air as every movement seems to propel through space in slow motion. Like a dramatic montage of Rudy sacking the Georgia Tech quarterback to clutch the W for Notre Dame, or an injured Danny LaRusso crane-kicking Johnny Lawrence to become the All-Valley Karate Champion: this was her field; this was her stadium; this was her Hail Mary. All of the hours of research at the library; all of the frantic trips to the hobby store; the redundant presentation practices; the late evenings followed by the early mornings accompanied with the inevitable break downs. It all came down to this.

"Our first place winner is… Brynn Schuyler!" The applause is defeaning as time seems to stop. Did she hear the principal correctly? The name sounded very familiar--like _her_ own name!

"Brynn Schuyler!" Did she _really_ just win the coveted first place ribbon at the science fair? She froze, her tiny little body unable to process the abundance of emotion she was encountering all at once.

"Where is Brynn?" Outside of being gifted her hamster and her mom letting her wear clear lipgloss, this is the most incredible day of her life--

She feels a tap on her shoulder. "Ma'am?" The veiled-look from her eyes washes away; the clouds around her head vanish. Reality hits. "Are you Brynn Schuyler?" She feels the warmth of rose flood over her fair complexion as the barista interrupts her morning ritual: reminiscing.

"Uh--yes," as she brushes her fingers over her brow, as if to create a shield to her embarrassment.

_Smooth. Real smooth, Brynn._

She quickly brightens, extending her hands, "I'm sorry. That's--"

"Iced venti white mocha latte with a blueberry muffin… _and_ two mini cinnamon maple scones?"

_I don't know what would be nicer: reading out my order for everyone to hear or calling me a 'fatass'._

"--me. Yes, thank you," she whispers with gnashed teeth behind a courtesy grin. As she slithers back down into her seat at the local coffee house, Brynn hides the pastries in her backpack, keeping them well within her reach as she continues to work: scouring the wanted ads.

Next Tuesday makes four months of no job and no steady income. She has been on seven 'promising' interviews with no avail. She is able to keep her bill collector's away with her savings account, but even that was beginning to dwindle like her existence.

Brynn is a scientists, a chemist to be exact--or at least she was. Her love for science led her from the suburbs of 'the City of Brotherly Love' to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst where she studied education. Her dream was to impose the wonders of science on young minds as they experienced the physical world around them. But, after her personal observation of the devastation of Alzheimer's disease with her grandmother, she took an unexpected internship with the Massachusetts's Alzheimer's Disease Research Center. She realized she didn't want to just teach science; she wanted to do science. One Master's degree in Chemistry later, she was well on way to making a real difference in the world. Or so she thought.

_'Benson's BBQ: Host needed'--maybe. 'Browning Steel: Welder with experience'--no. 'Bus Depot: driver wanted, great benefits'--no. 'Cutshall Clearance Store--stalker needed'-- surely they don't mean 'stalker', but they may need an ad editor._

She had scored the chance of a lifetime when she was hired on as one of the first female level I Chemists at the Lincoln Laboratory at MIT. She quickly graduated from fetching coffee, dry cleaning and business lunches for her superiors--also known as a research assistance--to finally being a project manager of her very own, very first multi-million dollar research study. But after twenty-months with no success, the funding was pulled on the project, the wind knocked out of her sails. The punches didn't stop there: her team of men threw her under the metaphorical bus and it was 'off with her head,' her moment of glory now over. She often feels foolish that she thought she could _actually_ make a difference in the world; even worse, she felt agonizing guilt for being a woman that couldn't hang in a man's world, feeling as if she was responsible for a sudden shift backwards in equality.

_'Danny's Barber Shop: receptionist'--maybe. 'Danny's Cake Decorating: baker'--no. 'Danny's XXX videos: call for details'-- uh, Mr. Danny has his dick in one too many pies._

_Bzzt._

_Saved by the text._

She giggles to herself in seeing she has a message from her roommate Jenny. Knowing that this is about to become a full-on text conversation, probably more suitable for an actual phone call, Brynn folds up her marked-up paper, and stretches her legs. She grabs her second scone, placing it into her mouth to hold as she piles her greasy hair into messy bun on top of her head, secured with a pen.

She swipes across her spider-cracked screen; the message: ' _Turn around whore! ;-P'_

"Brynny!" Brynn ducks as if she is about to be hit. "I thought that was your Corolla parked outside!"

"Jenny! You scared me!" She exhales loudly. "What are you doing awake? It's--" Brynn looks at her phone, "holy shit! Is it really almost noon?" She has no place to be; she just hates the feeling of time slipping by unnoticed, especially with her not being an active participant in life these days.

"I'm sorry, girl--"as she sits her coffee cup down at Brynn's commandeered table, "And you're right--I should probably still be asleep." She stifles a yawn, "I had a very busy night--"

"At the bar?" Brynn raises an eyebrow, "Or with Xavier?" her lips curling into a knowing grin.

Xavier is the first intact penis Jenny had ever been with--and she was loving it. It had been the topic of conversation during their 3AM chats this week, but when Jenny didn't come home from her shift at the bar last night, Brynn automatically knew Jenny must be exploring the new uncharted territory at his place.

"I didn't--I mean--" Jenny let's out a scoff. "Fine. Both."

A giddy Brynn scoots her chair closer. "Ooooo do tell."

"I--" Jenny pauses for dramatic effect, "happen to have a very--"

"Insatiable appetite? Ferocious needs?" Brynn giggles as she wraps her delicate fingers around her straw, gradually sliding them up and down its length.

Jenny clears her throat, straightening out her overall posture. "I was going to say, 'healthy sex life,' but since you have to be a thirsty bitch about it--" she leans in closely to Brynn, grabbing the remains of her scone. She flanges her lips around the breakfast pastry, fluttering her eyes closed, finally letting out a soft moan when she takes a nibble. "Oh honey _, he_ was ferocious." She draws a sip from her hot coffee before lowering her voice. "And he satiated _my_ appetite very… very… well."

Brynn jokingly sticks her fingers in her ears, pretending to be disgusted, yet squealing in excitement. Jenny playfully hits her arm as the two women uncontrollably giggle as they continue to enjoy each other's company.

Jenny Browder and Brynn Schuyler were a very unlikely pair. They met in undergrad in a entry-level sociology course during their first semester freshmen year. Of the two, Brynn was mature and focused, especially when it came to her education. Often times, she had to be the voice of reason with a newly uncaged and untamed Jenny who was more concerned with socializing and drinking.

Jenny was brought up in a strict, Fundamentalist household, the kind that saw dancing and playing cards as evil. She somehow convinced her parents that God was calling her to attend UMass after a life-long career of being homeschooled. It was 'Goodbye, long dresses,' and, 'Hello, Bombshell Bra.'

She never returned back home. Even when she failed out after Sophomore year, she packed up her guitar and headed for Nashville to become a star. The two friends had quickly turned back into strangers.

Brynn will never forget they day Jenny stumbled back into her life. In the midst of grad school, Brynn had volunteered at a free/low-cost community health clinic offered to lower-socioeconomic families. Jenny was waiting outside the facility, chain-smoking her last four cigarettes. Brynn was unloading testing equipment when she recognized a very familiar purple butterfly tattoo.

"Jenny?" Hearing her name, she instantly responded. She looked so different--older even, weathered. Her once-lustrous auburn hair looked as if it hadn't seen a brush--or soap, for that matter-- in weeks. Her eyes had lost their glow, surrounded by gray bags. Even though she kept her arms crossed in an attempt to hide it, her stretched-tight shirt boasted a growing bump. But, perhaps the most bothersome was the severely picked scabs, scratches, and bruises, littering her entire body.

They made cordial small talk until Greg, her alcoholic and abusive fiancé, honked his horn from his rusty Ford Ranger, notifying Jenny it was time to leave. Before she could run out on her again, Brynn quickly dug a pen and Post-It pad from her white coat, and wrote down her cell number. Truth be told, she never expected her to call.

Two o'clock in the morning about 3 months later, Jenny called. In his usual anger fueled by Wild Turkey, Greg had beaten her and forced himself on her until he passed out from the exhaustion of his stuper. But, something was different this night; something snapped in Jenny's brain. _Enough_. Her body was frail and bleeding; but her spirit was kindled, coming alive with courage, telling her she was not broken, telling her _to fight_. Fueled with what could easily be described as courage--or insanity--she stole $12 from his wallet and packed an old duffle bag with a change of clothes and a water-stained Post-It note.

At a gas station outside of Boston, Brynn picked up a very pregnant Jenny. They sat in the darkness, the cabin filled with silence and stillness; but the conversation was loud and clear: Jenny was terrified. Terrified to talk, terrified to act, terrified of her past and terrified to even imagine a future. Brynn reached over and grabbed Jenny's hand as they both quietly sobbed. They weren't freshmen anymore.

All of a sudden in the quietness of the car amongst all of the chaos, a baby began to dance. Waves and ripples fluttered across Jenny's abdomen; flips and tumbles quickly ensued, becoming stronger and stronger. They took her breath away for a moment, but quickly returned in the form of tiny giggles. Brynn's eyes sparkle with wonder as she gently places her hand on her friend's belly, gently rubbing circles with her thumb and fingers. Jenny places both her hands on Brynn's, guiding her around her bump, occasionally pressing deeply until finally they are greeted with a kick.

For the first time in a long time, Jenny wasn't terrified. Her head wasn't pounding from an incessant ache, a craving for just one more hit. Her body was breathing, healing in between the throws. For the first time in a long time, Jenny had clarity. And she was ready to talk.

Jenny got the necessary help she needed. She spent time at a battered women's shelter where she was safe and protected; she was able to receive prenatal care and some deeply therapeutic counseling. She even painfully detoxed from her methamphetamine addiction. But her biggest victory: she was beginning to forgive herself, allowing herself to heal.

Six weeks later, a very round and overdue Jenny gave birth to a beautiful red-headed, 9 pound 8 ounce boy. Her heart swelled with love--a love she had never experienced before--as they placed him right on her bare chest. Overcome with joy and tears, the new mom kept him safe and sound, snuggled in a blue receiving blanket in her healing arms. She had already missed so much--she didn't want to miss another moment: she wanted to remember how his chunky cheeks felt against her lips as she kissed him. She wanted to remember the gentle smell he had after his first bath. She wanted to remember that tiny, fierce grip around her finger, a grip that would extend past her finger and right around her heart. A grip that would never let go, even well-after she laid him into his new mother's arms.

Jenny Browder is the strongest woman Brynn knows--and probably will every know. Even while she was still rummaging through the train-wreck that was her former life, Jenny had the selfless spirit of a saint and the bravery of the finest medieval warrior. She had nothing of value to her name except for her battered heart; but being the mother of all mother's, she gave her last possession away. She knew that in order to give her son the world, she had to place him in a new world.

Jenny celebrated five years of sobriety last month, and has empowered many women throughout the New England area with her story, speaking at meetings and volunteering part-time at a crisis center. She reconnected with her cousin Sean and his husband Charlie a few years back; feeling a pull to be near family, she moved to Newark, a few blocks away from the happy couple. She now has a home--an apartment--of her own, a car, and a steady income, bartending at a local, lively bar called _Annex_. As an added benefit, she also gets to perform twice a month with the house band. Going back to school might even be in her future; but for now, she is happy to be living life again--even if that meant hosting a squatter on her couch in the form of her best friend.

"Any luck on the job front?"

Brynn blows a raspberry with pressed lips in her exacerbation. "Well, today's options include wearing daisy duke's at a BBQ joint, or becoming a baker--possible porn star--with a man named Danny--"

Jenny laughs, "Ewww, gross. Do I even want to--"

Brynn waves her hand in front of her face, erasing the air of the horrid idea, even if it was a joke.

"Well, the perfect job is out there."

_Yeah, yeah, yeah…_

Brynn sighs, "Oh, Jen, you _have_ to say that--"

Before she can hang her head down, Jenny interrupts the pity party, grabbing the remains of massacred muffin from Brynn's hand. "No, I don't. And believe me--" She stares warmly into Brynn's stormy eyes, "You are a catch. You are one in a million--"

"Are we still talking about jobs, or--"

"The perfect job is out there for you--trust me! We are one day closer to it." Not missing a beat, "Speaking of which--" Jenny rocks back and forth in excitement as her heart-shaped lips spread into a smile.

_Oh, God…_

"What are you doing tonight?" The words almost slur together like a waterfall crashing out of her mouth.

_Don't invite me out. Don't invite me out._

"I think I'm gonna--you know--stay in, order out. Look for more jobs--"

"And feel sorry for yourself?"

_Damnit, she's good._

Brynn sighs deeply as she lays her head down on her crossed arms.

"Well, it's a good thing we're not going out. You are just--" she lies, "accompanying me to work--"

"Jenny!"

"Brynny," Jenny fires back as both women compete in a staring--moreso glaring contest. She gives in first to the silly gesture, her look warming with affection. "Look, I-I know things have been have sucked recently--"

_That's an understatement._

"You need this. It's time to join the world again. You can't just stay cooped up in the apartment all the time--"

"Um," Brynn clears her throat. "I do believe I am in a coffee shop right now." She smirks while delicately fanning her arms out in the air, as if she was showcasing a brand new car on a game show.

"C'mon, girl," Jenny whines, "You know what I mean. Just come up to the bar. Sit and talk with me. Keep me company. Meet some of my regulars. You will feel so much better about yourself--"

"You know I have nothing to wear."

_12 pounds, fucking 12 pounds, and my entire wardrobe seems to have shrunk overnight._

"We'll figure something out--I promise! C'mon!" Jenny quickly bounds to the door with a sluggish Brynn in tow. "Besides," Jenny whirls around to continue, "You have a lot of miles left in this thing--" spanking Brynn's butt. Reflexively, Brynn immediately shields her pained bottom, her mouth gaping open. Jenny continues. "I've gotch'ya with shots all night. At least come window shop--it's Thursday night, which means the corporate hotties are shopping for some young ass--"

"Oh, yes. Because a one-night-stand and a raging case of chlamydia will cure my problems--"

"Hey, a shot in the ass, and you're good as new," Jenny jokes, making her apprehensive bestie crack a smile. "That's why I said, 'window shop.' Plus they're rich and love flaunting that they are rich. So--" Jenny shrugs her shoulders, "More free drinks for you!"

Brynn folds her arms across her chest, averting her gaze into the bustling traffic. She starts chewing on the sides of her mouth while letting out a long-winded sigh, clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea. The fact is she was embarrassed of herself, of what had become of her life. There she was, merely existing, living on her best friend's couch with no prospects--job-wise _and_ love-wise. And now that her former-slender body sprung unwelcomed curves, she feels more comfortable in hiding--from the world, and from herself.

Jenny steps back out of her black sedan. She pushes her sunglasses back into her short hair, the sunshine illuminating her scarlet layers. She places her hands on her hips as she silently challenges her friend to a battle of wills.

Brynn feels her piercing gaze, but she can't bring her self to match it. Jenny never pushes her to do anything--and now, all she wants to do is help pull her depressed house-guest out of her mucky misery. And Brynn knows that she will be grateful for the night, especially tomorrow morning. She just needed the little shove.

Brynn breaks their silence with a long, drawn out sigh. "Okay."

"Yes, yes, yes!" squeals Jenny. She slides back into the driver's seat, adjusts her sunglasses and bellows across the parking lot:"Get in loser! We're going shopping!"

Brynn could only hope it was for a new life.


	3. Dissociation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: very brief language, very brief suggestion of child abuse, brief mention of pregnancy loss

"But Dad! We were making her a present--"

"Out of her _own_ sweater, Mickey?" 

"I told him it was a _dumb_ idea--" 

"Hey! We don't say that word, Mason."

Mason adjusts his tortoise-shell eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose, his large, doe-like eyes widen with surprise by his father's reprimand. Of Sam's twin boys, Mason could be described as more conscientious, more mature--mature for a 7 year old, that is--than his brother Mickey. Mickey is spontaneous, and innovative, a natural-born leader, just like his father; anytime the boys found themselves in trouble, it was usually his ingenious idea with an apprehensive Mason, dragging his feet in submission. 

Mickey blows a wet raspberry at his body double.

"Mickey!" Sam scolds, unfortunately falling on 2 sets of tiny deaf ears.

"Dad--Mickey is being a _poo-poo_ head--"

"At least I'm not a _tattle-tale_ like you, _four-eyes_ \--"

"Dad--Mickey called me 'four-eyes'--"

"C'mon, guys--" Sam interjects, still with no avail. Most of the time, the boys were experts at working together to double team others, especially unsuspecting adults. But when they turned on each other, their tempers burned red. 

"You have four-eyes, _you_ _four-eyes_ \--"

"At least I'm not a big _dummy_ \--"

"Says the dummy who doesn't know he has four-eyes--"

"At least I didn't kill the class guinea pig--"

" _Damnit_ , you two--" roars a frustrated Sam.

"Dad, you said a swear!" chirps Mason innocently.

"And one of the badder ones at that--" agrees Mickey.

"Nuh-uh! It's not badder than sh--"

Sam slams his hands down on the kitchen counter. "Enough! Just shut-up! Both of you! Just--" Shaking, realizing he's still screaming, he attempts to restrain his words, in hopes that he is still restraining his own anger. "Shut-up."

The room topples into an awkward silence; the boys freeze in position. Their brown eyes glaze with tears as they shift their attention to their father.

Sam heavily sighs, rubbing his suddenly-aching forehead as if to wave a white flag of surrender. His powerful, chiseled jaw is clenched. Knuckles, blanching as his fingers struggle to unbutton the top buttons to his slate-gray Armani button-down. His eyes water from the sudden cascade of emotions. He swallows slowly.

_Damnit, Sam. Next time, you gonna beat the shit out of them?_

"Boys," he starts, but quickly retracts with a drawn-out sigh. He doesn't recognize his own voice. He starts to retreat backwards to his quarters, shaking his furious finger in the air. "We're not doing this tonight--"

"I'm sorry, Dad." Mason's voice is small, clearly dripping with fear. Sam stops, whirls around to the pure sound, just in time to see his son deflate before his eyes.

"Me, too, Dad. I didn't mean to make you so mad," Mickey chimes in, chewing on his short nails, retreating his gaze to the floor.

The defeaning silence rings obnoxiously in Sam's ears as he watches his sons, his little replicas, his mini me's. They stare at the floor, motionless like whipped puppies, their spirits crumpled like wads of trash.

_I wish their mother was here._

He heavily sighs at himself, stepping quickly towards his children. Falling to his knees, he collects them in his strong arms, embracing them as if his life depends on it.

And it does. Sam has the entire world at his fingertips, at his beckon call even. It has always been that way, being the eldest Dalton son. Name brands. Fine dining. Luxury cars and boats, not to mention his own jet, the private invitations to dine with world leaders and A-list celebrities. But, those boys. Without them, he would amount to nothing. Those boys gave his life meaning. They were always teaching him the depths of love and his capabilities as a father, even in the absence of his first true love: their mother. 

Their arms hug him tightly, bunching the delicate fabric of his shirt in their tiny fists, resting their weary heads on his chest, right underneath his chin that boasts a clean-cut goatee amongst a sea of fresh stubble.

Sam nuzzles his nose into their wavy, carefree hair as he peppers them with gentle kisses. Instinctively, Sam breathes in their precious scent as tear drops lay to rest on their chestnut locks.

_My boys… my God, my baby boys._

The pair is very much loved by their parents--very much wanted by their parents. After two painful miscarriages, one molar pregnancy, and three rounds of in vitro fertilization (not to mention the countless amounts of blood draws, pills, creams and shots on repeat), Mickey and Mason, along with their sister Maggie finally gave them the hope of parenthood.

But, their joy was short-lived when tragedy struck at 19 weeks. In the middle of the night, the bed-rested mom-to-be felt a sudden gush of fluid between her legs. Sam convinced his worrisome wife that she probably urinated on herself--it wouldn't be the first time. Nor the last time. But an hour later with terror in her eyes and a sweat-stained brow, she was rushed to the hospital.

The heartbeats were strong; the babies were still moving and kicking. The medical staff was able to stop the painful contractions, more importantly, the preterm labor. The ultrasound showed that only one amniotic sac out of the three had ruptured: Maggie's sac.

Maggie was tough just like her mom, but Maggie wasn't meant to grow-up in this world. She delivered into her parent's loving arms six days later. She was beautiful. They couldn't help, but love on her. They hummed sweet lullaby's to her. They loved tracing her tiny features over and over again, as if to commit them to memory. The nurse assigned to Maggie's comfort care wrapped her tiny fragile body in a pink gingham blanket with a matching hat with a bow on the front. She passed away about two hours later, snuggled tightly in her dad's arms.

Twelve arduous weeks of blood tests and ultrasounds. Twelve emotional weeks, filled with worry, excitement, sadness and anger. Twelve painful weeks of a bed-ridden woman with a rapidly swelling uterus with compressed nerves and stretching ligaments. Just twelve weeks later, Mickey and Mason were born.

And somehow, everything was worth it.

"Daddy--" Mason still holding tightly to his dad's shirt, "What will happen to Miss Kelli?" Sam breathes out a long, thoughtful sigh as he stands to tower over his boys. His chest is broad, and his shoulders boast his physical strength; but with gentleness and love taking control, Sam extends both of hands, their tiny hands fitting effortlessly in his large palms.

Escorting them down to their bedrooms, he answers. "Well, she will be moving out in the morning."

"But, why?"

"She didn't like us, Mason," pipes Mickey. "Just like Miss Annie. And Miss Kim--" Mickey's voice trails off as his words begin to drip with sadness.

"No one likes us." That is the second time tonight Sam has heard pain in his sons' voices, and as far as he is concerned, that is two times too many--especially since he was the culprit to their sadness just moments ago.

Sam is no fool: he knows his boys possess enough energy to fuel Time Square for at least a month--maybe longer. But he loves that about them: they are enjoying their childhood with reckless abandonment, being kids, filled with curiosity and wonder. But, he understands that they are a bit much.

Softening his voice Sam carefully chooses his words. "Of course, she liked you boys--they all did. But, we're not looking for someone to _just_ 'like' our family. We are looking for someone to be _part_ of our family." The boys quietly drink up Sam's words as he continues. "When someone is your family, you love them no matter what. No matter if they make you sad. Or angry. Family loves you even when you try to dye a sweater brown using chocolate syrup." Sam shares a small, short laugh. "We want someone who will fit perfectly with our family."

Sam's words, although truthful and comforting to his boys, sting as daggers, piercing his heart. Did he not choose her to be his family? Was she no longer a perfect fit when she gave back the ring earlier in the evening? The room becomes stifling as he fights to silence his thoughts about her rejection to be his family.

He turns to extinguish the bedside lamp along with the rest of the evening when Mickey's voice interrupts like another weapon against his heart. "I miss mommy."

"Yeah," he replied while combing his fingers through his son's hair. "I know you do."

Sam kisses their sweet heads once more before tucking the twins in for a visit from the Sandman. He pauses as he rubs his hand absent-mindedly on the door frame. The pain of a thousand needles prick his eyes, threatening tears of loneliness to crash on his cheeks.

He chokes back a sob. He whispers, "Me too, buddy," as he closes the door.

Suddenly the elevator that leads to their penthouse home chimes; the doors quietly brush open as the echo of heels clack on the polished floor, perfume poisoning the air.

_And, there she is._


	4. System

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: language, casually discussing sex  
> Song lyrics mentioned: "Patron Tequila"by Paradiso Girls f/ Lil' John, Eve

A gentle hiss whispers into the air as a single stream of steam rises. Brilliant cords of almond and caramel uncoil gracefully in Jenny's hand as they cool from the curling iron. She is the ideal stylist, a perfect wing-woman. Her focus isn't necessarily about being on trend; rather, she has an exclusive ability of seeing and enhancing the alluring features of people. Even though Brynn has gorgeous, touchably-soft hair, it normally hides her gracefully long neck and the beautifully delicate bone structure of her back and shoulders. The black, silken top they found at the resale shop earlier that day has a stunning decollete that warranted an up-do.

This is the first time since their college years the friends have converged together in getting ready for a fun night out--well, at least it will be a 'night out' for Brynn; Jenny would be on the clock, but luckily part of her job as a bartender is to be the life of the party, to make patrons desire to be like her and to be with her. Charm and sensuality equal more sales and tips.

Brynn carefully blends her charcoal gray eyeshadow on her lids as she casually rocks her body on the vanity stool, swaying her head back and forth to the beat of 'the Best of the 2000s Party Mix' on _Spotify_. Her confidence steadily built throughout the day after abandoning her disappointing job search attempts at the coffee shop, allowing herself to warm up to the idea of rejoining society for the evening. Shopping proved to be true therapy, helping unravel four months of degradation, self-hate and self-doubt. And even now, she keeps stealing glances of her beautiful visage as she primps and preens.

"God, hold still, Shakira!" jokes Jenny, her mouth holding a brassy bobby-pin. "Just one--more---pin." She pries open the hair clip with her teeth, and glides it into Brynn's hair, clipping the tendril just at the right angle to allow it to slink down with ease. "And--voila!" She finishes Brynn's look with a dense misting of hairspray, choking both women into a cough. Her hair, perfectly tossed like a crown of whimsical wisteria buds.

Brynn grabs a mirror to see the back of her do. "Wow, Jen--" she exclaims as she turns her head side to side. "It looks like I just finished a marathon of the best sex of my life."

Jenny lets out a tickled giggle. "That's the point--hey!" she continues, wearing a huge, sparkling grin, "this look might get you a marathon of the best sex of your life."

"Ha! I wish--" Brynn counters back as she playfully tosses a scrunchy at Jenny.

A very sobering chill washes over Brynn. Her once-joyous expression falls; her brow furrows. A lump appears in her throat.

_Oh my God! What if I do have sex tonight?_

"Brynn? Yoo-hoo! Earth to Brynn!" Jenny waves her hands in front of her friend's frozen face. "Are you okay?

Brynn forces a smile, nodding politely.

"Okay. Spill," demands Jenny as she hoists herself to sit on the counter next to the sink.

"I was just thinking--" Brynn pauses mid-stammer.

"About what, Brynny?"

"What if that happens? You know, tonight?" Brynn's eyes start to glisten.

"Then, hell yeah, my friend!" Jenny raises up her fist to bump her friend's, but it's not reciprocated. "Oh--" She straightens the tone in her voice to concern. "You're serious. Well, _do_ you want to have sex tonight?"

"No!" Brynn answers out of reflex. "I mean, I'm not going into tonight DTF. But then again, how many one night stands are planned?"

"I'm probably not the right person to ask that question to," jests Jenny. Both women giggle as Brynn playfully slaps Jenny's knee. "But seriously, You have to make that call for yourself, Brynn. You have to make your own boundaries, and I think it's a good idea to figure that out now. Before Jose Cuervo tells you otherwise."

Brynn cracks a small, knowing smile. "I know," her voices trails away from the conversation, "I just…" She shrugs.

Jenny stares blankly at her friend. "Does this have to deal with Cody?" There it is. Brynn chews on the sides of her mouth as Jenny begins to nod in understanding.

_Damnit, Jenny Browder and her Jenny Browder-ness._

Cody Blakenship had been Brynn's long-term boyfriend: her first love, her first to make love with, her _only_ to make love with. They met at UMass when she was taking Organic Chemistry II with Dr. Floyd, 'the Flunker'; Cody was his graduate teaching assistant. He was a conundrum of sorts, very much the stereotypical science nerd: very passionate about research with a drive to go into pharmaceuticals; but, no one would guess that based off of his appearance: he had long, thick wavy hair that barely cleared his shoulders, that is if he wasn't sporting his usual messy bun. His gauged ears matched the rings in his brow and the spike in his chin. He seemed to have an unlimited supply of band t-shirts, Chuck Taylors and Vans. Despite the code of conduct for being a TA, his tattoos were always visible.

He was no where close to being on Brynn's radar. But, that would all change during the week of midterms. Cody offered multiple supplemental instruction meetings at the library in preparation for the infamous Flunker exam. After a late night study group, Brynn discovered a flat tire on her bike. Cody saw her struggling alone in the dark, and he insisted on helping. As he worked in silence patching up the hole, Brynn held up her phone as a flashlight for him to see; instead, she began to see him. She had never noticed how good he smelled, delicious even: a deep, but subtle musky scent. His hazel eyes flashed golden flecks that danced with his fluttering lashes; his lips were full and hid his perfect teeth.

Even though he temporarily fixed her tire so she could peddle back home, he loaded her up with the bike and drove her back to her dorm where they sat outside for hours, getting to know one another. When the sky barely began to lighten threatening the crack of a brilliant dawn, Brynn tip-toed back into her room after she gave Cody her number; a few short months later, she gave him her heart.

Cody was a perfect boyfriend: a good listener, faithful, supportive, Brynn's own personal cheerleader. He had a knack of showing his love in little ways, like picking wildflowers and leaving them on her desk, or hiding Post-It notes around her place that would say exactly what he loved about her. He knew how to make her heart flutter. He was also incredible at satisfying her own cravings, the carnal ones she never knew existed until he awakened her senses. He was everything she thought she wanted in a partner, in a lover.

But Cody had a flaw that Brynn refused to acknowledge: he told her a long time ago before he ever asked her to be exclusively his girlfriend that he didn't believe in marriage, that he would _never_ get married. He had watched the tumultuous divorce of his parents that ruined his family, and he vowed to himself that he would never be like them. Sure, he believed in commitment and loyalty, but he didn't understand why people needed a paper and a piece of metal to prove their love to one another.

Hearing about his upbringing more than broke Brynn's heart, but she convinced herself that his views of marriage would easily change when he met the right girl. And she would become the right girl for him, but nothing changed.

Brynn had hoped for a marriage proposal after graduation, especially after Cody had landed a job at a prestigious company that manufactured and distributed surgical supplies. Instead of a ring, he asked her to move in with him. Of course, she said, 'Yes,' still hoping that one day, that some day, his mind would change, and they would get married.

As the years dragged on and still no ring, the arguments began. Occasional at first, but it slowly infiltrated every conversation.

_Maybe if I was your lawfully-wedded wife, I wouldn't burn your dinner!_

_You know who wouldn't accidentally turn your undershirts pink with her red bra? A wife!_

She didn't realize it, but Brynn started silently punishing him, pulling away from him. First went the kisses goodbye, then the kisses goodnight. She stopped the tickling and the wrestling and the cuddling. She forced herself to have sex with him, unsure if she was trying to convince him, or _herself_ , that they were still madly in love.

So what if marriage is just a piece of paper to him? That piece of paper meant something to her. That piece of paper meant the world to her. That piece of paper had always been a dream of hers ever since she was a little girl.

_Just compromise, Brynn. He loves you. You love him. Compromise. Just compromise._

But, she couldn't.

The day that her project went under at MIT was the last night she would spend under one roof with Cody. She hesitantly came home in complete shambles, her heart shattered. She closed the door, and quietly surveyed her home, _their_ home. With waterfalls of tears coursing down her pink cheeks depositing flakes of mascara, she leaned against the door and crumbled to pieces on the floor. He sat down with her, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to console her.

"Babe, you'll find another job. Don't worry--"

"This wasn't just a job, Cody," she interrupted. "I poured my life into them, into this _goddamn_ project. I gave them my all, my everything--" her sobs stopped her. "It just wasn't enough. I wasn't good enough--" With red, swollen eyes, she stopped herself, realizing what she had just said, grasping the reality of what she had just said. She looked into his eyes, but somehow couldn't see herself in them anymore.

He cupped her face, stroking away the rivers from her eyes. "They're cowards. If they couldn't accept your vision, then someone else will. You are so smart--so brilliant, babe." He plants a lingering kiss on her forehead. "I know this fucking sucks, babe, but--"

"Marry me." The words fell out of her mouth, spilling an uncomfortable silence across the room. Cody sat back, taking away his hand only to rub his face with it.

"Brynn, I--" he stopped as he adverted his gaze across the room.

"What? Is it really that hard of a question to answer?"

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered under his breath. "Brynn, you _know_ it's not that simple. I--"

"Isn't it though? It's _me_." The tears began to roll out again as their words from moments ago chime loudly in her mind.

_I poured my life… into him. I gave… him… my all, my everything. Brynn, it wasn't good enough. He can't accept your vision. He's the coward…_

The eternal awkward silence was finally interrupted with his two small words: "I'm sorry."

She walked out the door that night and placed a desperate cry for help to Jenny. She came back for her belongings a few days later while Cody was at work. She never returned.

That was four months ago, but the decade she spent with Cody is hardly forgettable. Her love for him is still there, and it terrifies her that it will always be there. Will she ever love again? Can she ever love again? Hell, did she make the _right_ decision? It kills her not knowing if he's okay. She would give anything to hear his voice just one more time, to smell him one more time, to run her fingers through his soft curls, to taste his tender lips. Just one more time. But, such is an addict desiring just one more hit. Cody was her drug of choice; he had become her world at the cost of compromising her own.

"Brynn--" continues Jenny as she places her hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look straight into her chocolate brown eyes. The whites of Brynn's eyes are becoming pink as she fights back tears, oddly complimenting the stormy blue hue of her irises. "I know where your heart is. I love that you love so fiercely--shit, he loved that about you. But tonight is not about him." Brynn closes her eyes, nodding. "It is _not_ about him anymore. _Your life_ is not about him anymore--look at me--" Brynn fixes her eyes back on her best friend. "Your happiness, your ability to have fun has nothing to do with him. I'm not saying, 'Fuck him! Girl power! Get over him now!'" Both friends chuckle. "But, I am saying that you need to take control of your life, and to stop giving him that control. K?"

Jenny gives Brynn a tight squeeze before scampering off to grab her outfit for the evening. Brynn begins lining her plump lips with a neutral taupe liner when Jenny pops back in the doorway, bouncing on one leg as she buttons her hip-hugging, ripped denim shorts.

"And honey, if you're not ready for sex, don't have sex. That is your call."

Brynn lets out a breathy laugh as she goes back to lining her pout.

"For real. Losing your virginity is the ultimate big deal--" Jenny's voice elevates a few decibels with concern. "But then, you have to have sex with someone else, and all the shit that goes down with that." Her speech quickens. "Getting used to someone new. Getting over someone else. Having to teach someone else what you like. _No, rub harder. No, lick softer. No, put your hand there. No, lift here._ Not to mention learning what makes someone else roar in pleasure-- _fuck,_ what if he wants you to put your fingers in--"

 _"Jenny!"_ Brynn interrupts, slightly in disgust. With Jenny, there are no lines; in fact, she gleefully jumps over them.

"My point: it's a big deal, too. It's not your first time, but it's your first time with someone new." She slides on a distressed black Johnny Cash tee, strewn with holes that revealed her lacy red bra. "I think you need to focus on just having fun. Dance. Drink! I wouldn't even worry about sex." She tosses her silicone strapless, backless bra at Brynn. "But, you are sexy without sex, without a man, without love, and I need you to embrace that. Now."

Jenny is such a good cheerleader, such a motivator. After her pep talk, Brynn feels empowered, ready to embrace the key to her own happiness, ready to enjoy the evening. She slips on a pair of dark-dark rinse skinny jeans. She spins on her tip-toes as she checks out her assets in the mirror. Her new curves don't seem so bad all of a sudden. Her legs seem to lengthen before her very eyes, her hips accentuating her narrow waist. She smiles.

She suctions the silicone cutlets to her fuller-cupped breasts, smiling at her newly developed cleavage. She slinks on her new top. The thin clear straps allow for the front to effortless cowl in the front; the back deeply plunges, stopping short of revealing the top band of her jeans. As she stares at herself in the mirror, she bites her lip as to hide her growing smile.

 _Damn. I look … I am sexy_.

"Brynny!" Hearing her name cut through the calmness of her self-admiration startles her. "Do you remember _this_ one? If this doesn't scream our party days at UMass, I don't know what does!"

Jenny cranks up the volume on the speakers as she begins to sing and dance through her room to the bathroom.

" _I'm on Patron, Tequila! I'm drunk on Margarita!--_ " she gestures to Brynn to join in her. "C'mon, girl!"

Brynn grabs her hairbrush, using it as her make-shift microphone as she begins to dance and giggle around the room. She takes Jenny's hand as she joins as the special guests to their impromptu concert. " _Me and my mamacita!_ "

The night is shaping out to be memorable. And Brynn is just getting started.


	5. Isomer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: language and smut

The taps of her heels dissipate towards Sam's room. His door slams shut, reminiscent of a dungeon, taunting a fight.

She is the last person he needs to see; hadn't she already said enough over dinner? They had said their 'good nights,' and went their separate ways. And after the emotional combustion that just occurred between father and sons, Sam needs space.

He storms into the master suite, fueled by words, words he feels, words he should've shared earlier when he had more gentility.

He stopped suddenly, taken aback. Her dress puddles before him on the floor. Her stilettos trace a path like breadcrumbs to the bathroom, the door slightly ajar.

Sam steals a peak, cautiously taking feather-light steps and holding his breath, a stealthful spy in his own domain. Unnoticed. His face against the doorway, his eyes adjust to the bright light of the bathroom vanity, a strong contrast to the darkened room. 

There she stands, her body beautifully exposed--except for the tiny shred of lace that excuses as panties. Her nudity is nothing short of immaculate. Perfect. She begins to comb her fingers through her hair, tossing the locks out of their perfectly styled position, twisting them into a careless bun. Her voluminous breasts suspend easily in the air, subtle bounces with each movement, playful. Inviting. She stops to admire her own visage in the mirror. Ever so gingerly, she traces her fingertips down her neck, between her breasts to the toned expanse of her belly, finally resting on the curves of her hips.

She smirks, causing Sam to suddenly duck into the shadows, away from the cast of light, hidden and beginning to sweat.

_Fuck me. She knows…_

He waits for a few moments, not making a sound, not moving an inch. Nothing. He slows down his breathing as he attempts to casually look through the doorway again. She is unaware, undisturbed.

_Whew… that was close._

She glides her thumbs under the waistband of her black lace thong as she gracefully bends over. Her voluptuous assets steal centerstage as the panties catch between the curves of her cheeks. She sways her hips back and forth as the fabric releases from her own grip. She slides them over her hips, allowing them to fall to the floor.

Sam's private striptease unlocks the chains of his emotions as he becomes numb--numb to his anger, to his sadness. Forgetting memories, forgetting conversations, his mouth runs dry as it gapes slightly open. His eyes burn with desire as his hunger aches. Growing. _Hardening_.

_No. No-no-no. Dude, Sam! What in the actual fuck--_

Sam stammers away from the bathroom, slapping himself across the face to wake himself from his fog of frustration.

_Fuck. You stupid fuck._

He steps into his walk-in closet with plans to scream, to punch the wall, to masturbate--something that will drain his energy, something that will make his mind rest.

_You are strong. You are stronger than this. C'mon, Sam. You're fucking stronger than--_

Glass crashes as his hand begins to throb. Little shards litter the floor like the winter snow; the brushed-silver picture frame hangs barely onto the wall. He peers down at his fist, a fist he never realized he created in the heat of his thoughts. He opens and closes his hands few times, no real damage has been done thankfully; but, as he looks up, he realizes he has broken something more precious to him: a picture of his bride. Happy.

The photo stole a moment that was so perfectly her. She wore her hair down that day despite the humidity, not because she would be more beautiful in doing so. _Impossible._ She knew he would want to see his bride with her natural crown of brilliant gold, dancing freely in curls across her freckled shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed close, hiding her otherwise alluring eyes. Small lines around her scrunched-up nose etched the pure joy she felt that day--that they both felt that day. Swirls of salted caramel buttercream were smeared across her chin, remnants of the cake-fight he promised he wouldn't start. She always tried hiding her self-proclaimed "toothy smile;" but today, today of all days, the day that she pledged "for better or for worse" to Mr. Samuel James Dalton, her smile appeared to power the moonlight and all the stars combined.

_God, was she breathtaking._

He met Caroline Austin during his junior year at Syracuse. Up until that point, Sam was easily described as focused, very studious, holding dear to him the goal of working for his father's company--maybe even owning it someday. Sure, he branched out and pledged _Delta Sigma Phi,_ and he blew off steam by playing intramural sports with his fraternity brothers. But dating and woman were not on his radar. He had dated in high school, and had his fair share of awkward first dates in college. But, he had come to the conclusion that women were a distraction. He adored them-- he adored sex with them. He had the rest of his life to get stupidly in love with a woman, but for now, the only thing he was intimate with was his marketing textbooks.

It was the week of the Fall food drive, where his fraternity paired with their sister sorority _Omega Beta Zeta_ to host a campus-wide collection of canned foods for the local food pantry. Sofia Russo was co-chair of the event. She and Sam had been friends since childhood; they were neighbors growing up in their respective summer homes in a very prestigious gated community. Sofia was self-absorbed, lover of anything revolving around her or designer labels; however, as far as Sam was concerned, she performed the most self-less act of her life at that charity event by introducing her Little sister Caroline to him.

The oldest daughter to a single mom, Caroline moved to New York in hopes that earning a creative writing degree from a New York college would open New York doors to New York editors and publishers. She couldn't carry a tune, but had no problem singing her heart out at karaoke. She never separated her colors from her whites, but loved folding clothes, claiming it was 'therapeutic'. She made the best sandwiches and bowls of cereal. She had no clue what a truffle was, and she thought _Pellegrino_ was a pasta dish. They were from different worlds, but Sam and Caroline shared an envious magnetism: earth-shattering,breath-taking, storybook love. She was the most fascinating woman Sam had ever met; smart and witty, exceptionally kind and generous, imaginative and artistic. She was down-to-earth and realistic. She never met a stranger. Her smile was contagious, and her laughter seemed to fill the most solemn of rooms. She had a way of making people feel important, that their existence was truly special. Her dreams were huge, and Sam couldn't believe that she agreed to include him in those dreams when he proposed to her after graduation.

Sofia referred to her as his own _Cinderella_. He was certain she was attempting to insult his lovely Caroline with the whole 'rags to riches' bit, more focus on _rags_ ; but Caroline had a way of turning the most cruel of jokes into a positive. "It's because you're Prince Charming, _my_ Prince Charming." 

Sam deeply sighs. _My love._

He carefully removes the photo from the picture frame as to not dump anymore sharp pieces of glass onto the carpeted-floor of his closet. He continues to reminisce about the love he once had and shared when all of a sudden, an ear-piercing shrill of a squeak interrupts the pure silence. His gaze shoots up towards the closed door. Just as the unwelcomed sound came, the sound abruptly stops after the muffled sounds of running water take over. The shower. No doubt she will complain when she's finished that he hasn't had that fixed yet.

_I miss her so much. So fucking much. I miss... us...and how we used to be._

And there he was, alone in his closet, craving that his memories would become reality.His eyes threaten tears again as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt.

_God, I'd give anything for her to undress me... to feel her delicate touch on my chest... to taste her lips... God, anything._

He wants to hear Caroline beckon his name to join her in the shower. He wants to hold her in his arms as the hot water beats on their bodies. To make love to her, and to love her again: he bites his bottom lip as he fights back the tears and removes his black slacks.

Sam takes his prized picture of his wife, placing it in his tie drawer. Before closing it for the night, he traces his finger over her face. He can almost hear her laugh. He can almost smell her _Dolce_ perfume. He can almost taste her. _All_ of her.

He slips on a pair of plaid sleep pants, leaving his strong, muscular chest bare. He cleans up the glass before heading to bed.

The water to the shower is still running; he is uncomfortable going to sleep without at least acknowledging her presence--as if he could even fall asleep. He sits on the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his weary head in his hands. The room remains dark and still. The curtains to the windows are drawn open, allowing a soft mix of the moonlight and the city lights to pour into the quietness.

The water stops. Sam lifts his head from his hands, casually glancing over his shoulder. No private show was available from his angle--he was unsure if he wanted to see or not. He cracks his knuckles,starting to pick at his nails. Was there about to be another fight? Would she say anything--give him the silent treatment?

The bathroom door swings open finally, announcing her entrance into the darkened suite. The billowing clouds of steam dissipate quickly around her body, accentuating every curvy edge as she begins to saunter towards a downcast Sam. She stands before him, naked with wet skin, concealing something in her hands.

"Samuel?"

"Hmm?" He murmurs as he looks up towards her face, squinting his eyes, guarding himself from anymore potential punches to his soul.

She reaches up with one hand, unhooking her hair clip. She shakes her blonde locks free. They fall effortlessly, single strands being caught by the damp skin of her neck. Her body illuminates from the night glow.

Sam's mouth drops slowly as he feels his heart begin race.

_Good God, how... does she know... her breasts..._

Her eyes met his again. In a darkened, quiet voice, she continues, "I changed my mind."

"What--" noticing his voice was abnormally higher than usual, he clears his throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Our marriage, Sam." She opens up her hand, the moonlight immediately revealing the brilliance of a diamond ring--her ring.

He rubs his forehead and his eyes. "I think we should talk about this tomorrow--"

"No--" she interjects. "Just," she stutters, "Let me say this. I got home, and I started thinking about us. And--"

Sam holds his breath as he peers safely at her feet.

"I want this for us, too."

Sam slowly fixes his gaze back on her. "You do?"

"If this merger is going to be successful, I want us to be successful. Personally. Together. I don't want to be a heartless bitch that chooses business over her marriage. I want to take a chance. With you, Samuel. Maybe--" her words catch in her throat.

Sam reaches out, grabbing her empty hand, eyes remaining fixed on hers.

"--maybe we'll find love. Again."

He was used to her smart mouth, but he has never seen such vulnerability in her eyes. It softened his broken heart. All the bruises to his ego melt away.

_'Find love again.' Yes... please,.._

He grabs her other hand to collect the ring. He stands up, towering over her. "If we do this--if we agree to do this--" he takes a big breath. "We are going to do this the right way."

A grin crawls across her face as she begins to nod her head in agreement, wiping away a tear before it can fall.

With one last deep breath, Sam retreats to the floor on bended-knee. He looks up at her, soaking in her beauty, soaking in how she is looking at him, soaking in every detail in this moment. He extends his hand, inviting her left hand into his palm.

With a half-smile, feeling slightly ridiculous, he whispers. "Marry me?"

She nods her head emphatically as he slips the large diamond onto her finger. Her lustrous-red nails somehow made the ring radiate brighter, more powerful. 

He stands, brushing his lips with hers, her focus steady on the ring.

"Should I grab some wine--err, champagne? To, um, to celebrate?" Sam is truly a romantic at heart, trying everything in his power to make this lovely as opposed to forced.

"I'm okay," she states as she sits down on the side of the custom-sized bed. Sam cautiously sits down bedside her, a weirdness filling the room as they stare at the opened windows. "So--" she continues with no place for the conversation to go.

"So--" echoes Sam, very aware of her nakedness, but very unaware of what to do about it.

She lets out a bashful giggle as Sam rubs the back of his neck.

After several minutes of painful silence, "Should we-- you know?" She suggests.

"I mean, we could--to celebrate. That is--" he stutters, "Only if you want to. I mean--if you're okay with it."

She lets out a sensual chuckle as she turns her body towards Sam. She cups her hand to his face, his stubble prickly against her soft skin. He leans into her touch, turning his head to kiss her hand, her wrist, her fingers. He begins to warm up to the idea of being with her intimately when her thumb begins to part his lips, inviting him suck on her. But to his dismay, she quickly removes her hand.

 _Tease_.

Their eyes lock as she crawls backwards into the bed, giving him a devilish grin. She leans back onto her elbows tossing her hair over her shoulders, her supple breasts, enticing him with playful bounces again. His eyes widen as he tries to keep his eyes from wondering from hers. She spreads her legs apart, giving Sam a full-view of his feast to come. Her slender fingers carefully trace down her skin again, allowing for soft moans to escape her mouth. They lay to rest on her smooth mound as she fixates her eyes on Sam, piercing through the dark, begging for him to touch her.

"Come here," she whispers innocently.

Sam stands up, admiring the spread before him. His hunger builds as he discerns where to even begin. It had been years, and he was starting feel inadequate. He wants her to enjoy--hell, will he? He hopes she can't tell, but he feels himself shaking in anticipation, shaking in dread.

She knows that pensive look on his face; she sees the gears turning in his mind. She smiles, licking her teeth. She extends her leg towards him, pointing her toe.

"Mr. Dalton--"

"Hrmm?" Unable to form words.

"Make love to me."

Unsure if it was her choice of words or the way she said them, Sam's inner beast roared into play, his touch dripping with desire. He crawled onto the bed, grabbing her smooth extended leg, and with one quick tug, he tosses it over his shoulder. He traces her slit with his tongue--and to his pleasant surprise, she's already wet, luring him in for a more satisfying taste. He wraps his hands around her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth as he begins to search her depths. Gentle at first, he begins to nibble, sucking his way inside of her. As she lays herself back, raising her arms carelessly above her head, she begins to subtly rock her hips with each thrust of his tongue.

"That feels good--" she whispers as her quickening breath catches in her throat.

With verbal reassurance, Sam loses his inhibitions. He extends two fingers deep inside her as he begins to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. Flicking and circling, massaging and thrusting. She places a hand on his head, fingering through his beautiful waves. He looks up at her, meeting her gaze as she sensually touches her poisonous pout. Fueled by passion, his movements becoming quicker, deeper. She snaps her eyes shut as she casually rolls her head side to side, trying to slow down her heavy breathing.

As he continues to finger her, he reaches for her breasts with his other hand. He begins to knead them slowly, steadily as they spill out of his hands. He can feel her nipples harden between his fingers. Replacing his tongue with his thumb, Sam begins to devour her breasts, sucking, tonging one nipple before switching to the other.

"Sam--" with a sharp breath,"I...I need--"

He stops. He crawls between her knees, hovering on top of her, sealing her mouth with several long, sensual kisses. He brushes the wet wisps of her golden hair out her face. Her chest rises and falls quickly against his chest. She locks her eyes into Sam's intense stormy gaze. She begins to tiptoe her fingers down his body: tracing his collar bone down to his firm chest where she stops to play and pinch his nipples. They continue their journey, rumbling across his tight abs, her nails gently coming out to play. Her fingers slip and slide down his lower abdomen, a chiseled "V"-shape serving as an arrow, a guide to where he really wants to be touched. His hardening, extended girth is found as she slides her hand around it, caressing the entire shaft by moving her cupped hand up and down.

Sam's eyes rollback, letting out a grunt as he quickly exhales through his nose.

In his ear her breathy voice was unmistakable: "Take me, Sam."

She lines him up with her body. She slips his wet tip just inside her saturated slit. He laces his fingers with hers as he pins them above her head to the bed.

He slowly pushes himself into her. Her tightness slowly gives to his size as she whimpers below his weight.

"Is that--" he breathes heavily, "is that okay?"

She wraps her legs around his waist as he pulls back out, returning the pressure instantly as he pushes himself back in, only this time deeper. Again. And again. Quicker.

"Sam--" she yelps between thrusts. "Yes--" as she rocks her hips with his. "God, yes--" her moans of pleasure sing a symphony of ecstasy around their tangled bodies. "Yes--" as he slides in and out. In and out. More.

He can feel his legs dripping with her as he reaches down to tickle her clit just one more time. 

"Oh, _God_ \--" her toes begin to curl as she clamps down on his swollen girth. "Sam! Sam! Yes! _Sam!"_

Sam splashes into deep euphoria as he spills himself into her; his eyes water as he gives deep, guttural moans, his quickened breath creating grunts in his throat.

"Oh, _Sofia_ \--"


	6. Entropy, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: language; sexual harassment; alcohol use

"Bottoms up, Schuyler!" Jenny twirls on the balls of her converse-ordained feet, managing to slide Brynn another shot of chilled tequila while administering a shocking swat to her curvy bottom.

Her eyes blaze open. "Jen, it's barely 9:45--"

"And you're still completely sober!" she counters with a big wide grin. "Drink!"

Even though the evening is young _, Annex_ buzzes like a busy beehive; the venue swarmed of men in suits from New York: yuppies, who were, no doubt, competing with each other on who had the best business card (clearly, the bone with _Silian Rail_ lettering or something psycho like that), and older, sleezy-looking men with Trump comb-overs who were, no doubt, competing for their next mistress. Brynn already had her fair-share of catcalls and ogling eyes from men hoping to grab more than just a drink from the bar. But, she's smart, being careful not to entertain the creeps while being protective of her body. And it also helps that she knows the bar manager and keeps her within reach.

Brynn hesitantly takes her fourth shot, dutifully licking salt prior to tossing the liquid fire down the back of her throat. As she bites into a precut lime, she winces at the sudden sting of sour, spreading across her tongue matched with a warmth that was beginning to creep across her cheeks.

She spits out her lime, and attends to her drink in hopes to neutralize the wild array of displeasing flavors dancing in her mouth. Unfortunately upon taking a swig of her vodka cranberry, she slurps more air than drink. Empty. She turns her attention to her favorite bartender: "Jenny!" The heart-pounding music of _Metallica_ blaring on the jukebox drowns out her voice. "Jenny!" she screams louder, but still with no avail. As Jenny pours a double Crown & coke for one of her regulars, Brynn leans in with a shrieking "Browder!--"

Jenny jerks her head up for a split second, but her glance quickly turns into a double-take. She suddenly squeals with joy as she focuses on something--rather someone-- behind her bestie. She quickly skips her way to the patron-side of the bar. She bounces on her tip-toes as she throws her arms around a great tower of a man; her arms, even outstretched, don't quite reach his shoulders, but without missing a beat, he embraces her, boosting her short stature to his level. Finally eye-to-eye, they share one peck, two pecks, three sweet pecks before briefly getting lost in each other's eyes.

He is built like a tank with dark, velvety chocolate skin. His honey-dipped dreads were carefully pulled back into a bun, revealing his sharp jaw and chiseled cheeks. His face is dusted with a shadow of a beard that curls around his lusciously plump lips into a goatee. And then, his smile, his incredibly dazzling smile: a smile that can only be found in touched-up photos for marketing ads for beauty brands like _Colgate_ or _Rembrandt_. He is a gorgeous man, statuesque even, complete with ripped up jeans and a heathered-maroon _Hollister_ henley.

With hands laced together, they approach a smiley Brynn who quickly speaks first: " _You_ must be Xavier."

"So, she _does_ talk about me," he chuckles with a whiskey-smooth, deep-Southern voice. "It s a pleasure to finally meet you, Brynn, but I must say--" both women freeze, unsure what's about to proceed from his mouth. "Jen failed to mention how exquisitely breath-taking you are!" Brynn gives a flirty laugh as he grabs her hand, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Now wait a minute you two--" Jenny playfully pouts, putting her fists on her hips. Brynn lifts up her hands in surrender as Xavier chuckles.

"I'll be on my best behavior, lil' mama." He leans down to whisper in her ear, "Besides, I already have my queen." He sneaks one more kiss on her lips. Then her nose. Then the top of her head. Jenny scampers off with an extra pep in her step as she serves other guests. 

Brynn witnesses the happiness of the cute couple, her eyes surely turning into a heart-shape as she bites her lower lip. She lets out a satisfied sigh, allowing a subtle, sweet grin stretch across her face. Seeing Jenny so incredibly happy made her heart swell. Jenny has worked so hard to improve herself; she deserves only goodness in her life. She hopes that Xavier will be her knight in shining armor in due time.

Brynn loses herself in thoughts about white horses and prince charming that she almost didn't feel the pair of dark eyes looking at her. Rather than feeling a frigid chill of a creep undressing her with his horny gaze, she felt a warmth--and not just the alcohol. He was tracking her movements, scanning her body language, soaking her in as she interacted with others. Trying to play it cool as if this was an everyday occurrence for her, Brynn pretends to fix her hoop earring as she casually glances towards her new-found admirer.

 _Damnit_.

He has already turned away from her; was it the blond with the blue pin-stripe button-down? Or maybe the Asian guy with the pure white button-down with his sleeves rolled? Still, it could be the guy with the shaved-head with the unbuttoned shirt, exposing his wife-beater undershirt.

"Brynn--" Xavier has returned to her side. "One vodka cranberry for the lady." He hands her a drink as he nurses a long-neck. "I hope you don't mind me tagging along with you tonight."

"Not all," she cheerfully responds as she takes a swig of her drink. She is grateful for the company, especially one that had such an intensely strong exterior to make her feel safe and comfortable-- _and_ to intimidate sleezy men from hitting on her.

At that moment, the metal music is interrupted by Darius Rucker. Couples begin to move tables and chairs, creating a make-shift dance floor; dancing ensues.

Xavier leans close to Brynn's ear, "I'm a sucker for two-stepping." Brynn widens her eyes in surprise. "That's why I chose this song on the jukebox." Xavier shines a guilty, yet devious smile at Brynn as he extends his arm as an invitation to dance.

"Oh, Xavier--" she giggles, shaking her head. "I don't dance. At least, well, not two-stepping. I-I don't know how."

"Correction: you _used_ to not know how. C'mon. Follow my lead."

_I can't believe I'm doing this…_

His hopeful gaze never falters, and he is unbelievably sweet. Together they mosey to the floor. He naturally takes the lead: he grabs her right hand with his left as he wraps his right arm slightly around her body, carefully placing his hand on her upper back. Her hand reflexively rests on his right shoulder as she nervously looks up at him.

"Ready?"

Brynn slowly exhales as she begins to smile. By the third set of _step-step quick-quick step_ , Brynn was able to relax, looking confident as Xavier leads her around the floor.

"See? Look at you. There's a little bit of country in all of us."

She flashes a flirty smile, becoming bashful at his compliment. That's when she felt it again. A deep gaze, a fierce dark pair of eyes hauntingly calling to her. She looks to her left; she looks to her right. An endless crowd of people surround her, but no one seems to be taking notice of her.

_Chill, Brynn. It's just the alcohol._

"--Brynn?" Xavier repeats himself. She shakes the fog from her eyes before giving him a reassuring smile. "You with me, baby girl?"

"I'm so sorry. Yes, I-- thought… nevermind. What were you saying?"

He smiles. "I just asked, 'if you trust me,' but if you--"

"Oh, X, I am so sorry. I've had too much to drink." Her face lightens with a brighter smile. "Of course. Yes, of course, I do--"

And with that, Xavier holds tight to Brynn, as he begins to spin her around the floor. He lets go of her back, extending his arm as her body twirls away from him, only to yo-yo back into his embrace. Brynn can't help, but let out a heart-felt yelp followed with giggles of joy as he continues to lead her in exhilarating steps. As the song comes to an end he dips her low, only to effortless lift her back up into a giant bear hug, both out of breath and laughing.

"Oh my God, X! Hands down, best dance of my life. C'mon. Let me buy you another beer."

"I can't say, 'no' to that." He follows her lead to the bar. "Go ahead and get me Bud; I'm gonna head to the men's room."

Brynn nods as she starts to scan the bar for Jenny to order. She dabs her skin with a cocktail napkin as she becomes vainly aware of how sweaty the dancing had made her.

"Hey, beautiful."

The greeting startles Brynn. She immediately senses a change in energy around her; an uneasy feeling, a darkness creeps into her heart as she slowly turns her head in the direction of the bellowing voice.

_Could he be the one I've been sensing all night?_

She locks her eyes with his. They are a beautiful pale blue, very striking and full of temptation; yet, they somehow invoke a fear in her.

_No. This can't be him. It doesn't feel like it. At all._

He is tall; even with him leaning on the bar with his elbow, he towers over her. It may be unintentional, but his large size in this close proximity to her is unnerving, threatening even. But, what if he hears that all the time? She justifies that it would be rude to back away, creating more space between their bodies. Plus, he is good-looking.

She gives a small, courtesy smile before taking a long look around the bar again for Jenny, or to see if her amazing dance partner had returned.

"Don't worry."

Brynn looks back at the gentleman, curiously squinting her eyes. "About--?" the question trails into silence.

"I'm here," he continues with a stretched, proud smile, his eyes never faltering from hers. "What do you want for your next wish?"

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Is this douche for real?_

She raises an eyebrow. "Does that line _actually_ work?"

"You're still talking to me, aren't you?"

_Just look away, Brynn. Where is Jen? X…?_

The stranger begins to straighten out the twisted clear spaghetti-strap to her top. It must've disheveled out of place while she was dancing. If under any other circumstances, the gesture would have been welcomed. But, no. Absolutely not. Not right now and especially not with this guy. He already attempted to use a pick up line, which was a direct insult to Brynn's (as well as other women's) intellect and common sense. What makes it worse is his smooth-talking, treating Brynn like he could pull the wool over her eyes, tricking her into thinking he meant well--not harm. Plus, Brynn already has a negative intuition about him. And now, she is desperately looking to get out of this uncomfortably sticky situation.

She taps his hand away. "Excuse you."

"Oooo watch out, fellas. This one bites," he taunts making claws with his fingers.

"Please leave me alone," Brynn states as she begins to turn away fearfully looking for safety, but also trying hard not to create a scene.

Suddenly she feels him hook his fingers on the back of her jeans, tugging her body back to himself. Unfortunately for the poor bastard, his face met the powerful force of Brynn's open palm as he pulled her closer.

"I said--" this time, Brynn does not care who hears, "Leave me… the _fuck_ alone. Asshole."

He wipes his hand across his mouth, ensuring he wasn't bleeding. "You _cunt_." He slowly steps forward, his hands balling into fists. "What kind of a trailer-trash bitch dresses like a cheap whore, but refuses the dick offered to her?" He begins to tower over her, threatening her. "Fucking slut--"

"That's enough, _Larson_." The sudden interjection of the unfamiliar voice startles both Brynn and her assailant.

" _Flores_ ," hisses Larson as he scoffs at the interruption.

Brynn begins to squint her eyes, examining this stranger. He stands a few inches taller than she does in her stilettos, and he seems to be in great shape judging from the definition in his arms. His skin is tanned, a rich nutty color that compliments his almond-shaped brown eyes. His thick chocolatey-brown hair boasts subtle highlights of ash; he allows it to grow past his ears to match his youth, but it is well-fixed with a sophistication that screams professional. He is well-styled in a pale-lavender gingham shirt--that has followed suit with everyone else: sleeves being rolled-up to the elbows--paired with tailored charcoal slacks and his midnight _Belvederes._

_Those dark eyes. I know that look. That's him. I know it is…_

"This isn't your concern--" revs Larson.

The kind stranger stands in front of Brynn as if to protect her. "See? That's where you're wrong, Larson. I believe the lady told you to leave her--"

Larson throws a punch, knocking the gentleman to the ground. "Flores, know your place--"

A familiar muscular arm with an intense grip grabs the harasser by his shirt. "Get the _fuck_ out of here, man." Xavier shoves him, forcing him to retreat from the venue. Xavier quickly embraces Brynn, her body trembling against his. But even though her heart was shaken by what just happened, she looks around for the kind man that took a swing for her.

"Oh my _God_! _Brynn_!" Jenny shrieks as she fights her way through the unending crowd of customers. She tears Brynn away from Xavier to embrace her, tucking Brynn's loosened curls behind her ears. "Are you okay? What the fuck happened? Did he lay a fucking finger on you? I swear to God, if he did I will cut his di--"

"Whoa, slow down. I'm okay, Jen. Everything is okay--thanks to X." Brynn breaks with a small smile turning towards her dark-eyed admirer-turned-savior. "And thanks to _you_." Brynn stretches out her hand. "I'm Brynn."

He smiles, his hand meeting hers. "Sam."

***************

As they sit on a large, brick planter outside of _Annex_ , Brynn presses an ice pack to her hero's blackening-eye. She has already tended to the small laceration on his cheek where the skin broke on impact. He probably would benefit from a stitch or two, but he insisted on just a simple cleaning and band-aid. "Sam, I still can't believe you took a punch for a complete stranger."

"Ehh, it was no biggie. Hank Larson and I work together and have never seen eye-to-eye on anything. So, when I saw him harassing the beautiful girl I had been checking out all night, I had to spring to action." He coyly smiles as he searches for some kind of reaction from his confession.

Brynn looks down at the ball of tissues in her hand as she blushes, searching for the right words. "You were--"

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

They both look over at his phone as it begins to ring, the name _Sofia_ on display.

His face falls with concern. "I'm sorry, Brynn. I need to take this." Rather than taking the call in her presence, he walks away from ear-shot to answer.

_Sofia? Maybe it's his sister… or maybe a cousin? Shit, who am I kidding? I knew it was too good to be true. He's got a girlfriend--shit! What if he's married?_

She picks at her nails in nervousness as she feels herself building reinforcement around the walls of her heart. She sees him pacing back and forth, combing his fingers through his hair only to rest his hand in the back of his neck. He looks frustrated. And guilty.

Brynn tries to avert her eyes, to watch anything but him. She observes a group of college-age women, laughing and singing as they get into their cars to leave. She notices an empty styrofoam cup, blowing in the wind as it rolls down the concrete slab of the parking lot. The moon shines brightly, not quite full, but big enough to offer extra lighting to the city. The parking lot is overfilled with cars--some cars park on the grass, one even double-parking behind two patrons. She looks back down at her nails. Then her shoes as she pretends to model them in the streetlight--gosh, she loves these shoes. They are almost worth the pain she will have in her in-step tomorrow.

After 10 minutes of him talking on the phone with no sight of the conversation ending, Brynn sighs heavily, slumping over in defeat. She catches her head in her hands. Had she been wrong about her secret admirer? Is he blowing her off? She grabs her clutch and decides to head inside to say, 'goodbye,' to Jenny and Xavier.

The place is still wildly bumping as drinks flow and bodies grind. Everyone appears carefree, having an absolute fun time. Oh, what Brynn wouldn't give to get out of her head and be like everyone else. Instead, she finds herself getting frustrated and lonely.

Xavier spots Brynn first. "Hey, pretty lady--" he quickly discovers that the light in her eyes is completely squelched. "What's wrong?"

Brynn gives a courtesy smile and shrugs. "I'm just tired. Being a wet blanket." She let's out a chuckle. "I'm going to head on home--is Jen still behind the bar?"

"Nope, she's right behind you!" Jenny sneaks up, throwing her arms around Brynn's shoulders. "Are you having fun or what?" Jenny sounds so hopeful, as if this orchestrated idea of coming out tonight has somehow cured all the blues from Brynn's body. 

And it has been fun. She has enjoyed the vibe of the place, absolutely adores her best friends new boo and even loved learning how to two-step. But the constant reminder that she is alone, that Cody is no longer in her life, that she has no job has become stifling. It has been fun, but it wasn't enough for her.

"It's been too much fun," Brynn smiles, lying through her teeth. "But, I'm exhausted."

"What? No, " Jenny whines. "What about Hottie McHotterson?" You could see the sparkle fading from her as if she had little floating hearts prancing around her head. Only now, they are shattering.

Brynn shakes her head. "Yeah-- that's not gonna happen. I'm going."

"What?" Jenny grows concerned. "He seemed amazing. What happened?"

Jenny means well; Brynn knows this. But sometimes Brynn just needed her friend to nod and just accept her decision rather than play _20 questions_.

"I…I just need to go."

"It's only eleven--are you sure really want to go?" Jenny asks with a slight whine in her voice.

"Jenny!--" Brynn catches herself yelling in frustration. She lowers her voice, "I think I'm already turning into a pumpkin as we speak. I'm exhausted and really need to go home. I'm gonna call an _Uber_ \--"

"Let me take you home," Xavier offers.

"That's a good idea." Jenny agrees. "That way we know you made it in one piece."

Brynn shakes her head. "No, no. That would be throwing a wrench into the night, and I want you two to keep having fun." She cracks a certain smile, throwing her arms first around Jenny. "I promise I will text when I get home."

The cute couple exchange a look of worry. "Are you sure, Brynny? Xavier doesn't mind, and you've already had a pretty traumatizing night."

Brynn lets out a small laugh. "I'm fine, and I'm sure. Have fun, you two." She turns to Xavier, hugging his waist tightly as he drapes his arms around her shoulders. "X, thanks for the dance."

He gives an endearing stroke of her check with his thumb as he offers a half smile, "Anytime, baby girl."

They say their 'goodbyes' as Brynn orders an _Uber_ on her phone. _7 minutes away_. She saunters outside with a bottle of water, lost in her thoughts about the night, about the recent events of her life.

_It could be worse--_

"Brynn!"

_Oh, great. My married 'Prince Charming'…_

"Hey, Sam--"

"I thought I lost you--"

"Well, you found me." Brynn crosses her arms as she looks past him to the road, looking for her _Uber_. She's acting cold; she knows that she is. But she isn't about to let her guard down, especially if he does have a woman waiting at home for him. She is still very grateful for his heroism earlier, but she isn't about to let him get away with lying.

"Look, I apologize for that. My brother just got engaged tonight to this total bitch of a woman, and she was calling me to see I could babysit his kids this weekend to workout some prenup crap and then she went on to tell me about how they--" Brynn raises an eyebrow. " _Damnit_. And now I'm rambling." Brynn gives a soft chuckle. "Let me start over: I'm sorry. Knowing what I know now, I shouldn't have taken the call."

She turns slowly to look into his eyes. It sounds like a legitimate story--too bizarre, too casually specific to be a lie. Is she the fool for her own thoughts, for believing his?

"Are you single?"

"Very much so." He smiles.

"So--no wife… or girlfriend waiting for you back home?" Brynn begins to uncross her arms, stepping closer to him.

"Only Heidi--" Brynn chokes on her spit before he can finish his thought. "My _dog_." They both share a laugh when a silver _Ford Echo_ pulls up with an illuminated sign that reads _'Uber.'_

_Honk!_

His face falls. "Are you leaving?" a slight pain in his voice.

"That's the plan," she starts to walk slowly towards the car.

"Well, where are you going?" Brynn stops dead in her steps, and turns to look at him. She shrugs, confused as to what she even wants to do. "Would you mind if I came, too?" She softens, slowly smiling. Her icy frigidness is now completely melted away by his warm eyes. She nods her head. He quickly runs and grabs his sports coat off the planter as well as the bag of ice before jogging to the car. He opens the door, allowing her to step in first. "Are you hungry?"

***************

"Um, hello? _Taking Back Sunday_ was iconic to the emo movement--"

"But if hadn't been for their spat with _Brand New_ , they would probably still be a couple of kids form Jersey, singing in their garage--"

"Dude! Sam! They're from Long Island _\--_ "

Brynn and her handsome hero crack up laughing at their banter. They had discovered in the car that they share the same taste in entertainment, including horror movies, Stephen King novels, and anything alternative in the music scene; but truth be told, they were a sucker for anything from the emo era of the late 1990s to early 2000s.

As _the Uber_ turns into the parking lot for their late night snack, Brynn texts Jenny:

_"Sam invited me out for some late night grub at Monika's Diner. Things are great."_

Jenny's response is a bunch of emoji's, including hearts, lips, and one lone eggplant. Brynn chuckles to herself, shaking her head.

 _That girl is ridiculous_.

He shuffles out of the car first, extending his arm to take her hand. There was an ease to holding his hand, almost as if they had been doing it forever. She only becomes awkwardly aware of her grasp when they approach they hostess station together. "Just two?" A sassy, older woman with purple readers looks them up and down, taking special attention to their hands. Brynn quickly drops his hand as she pretends to dig in her clutch as they are shown to their seats. They follow the quirky woman to a booth, where she places two menus on the same-side of the table before walking away.

_Do people normally sit on the same side of a booth if they are just getting to know each other?_

Sam smiles at the table as he rubs the back of his neck; Brynn smiles while chewing on her thumbnail.

"Um--well--" he begins to stutter.

"I mean--I, well, I mean, I could--" she stammers back,.

"Only if you want--like, I don't mind, I just, it's whatever, you know, you want--"

_Stop being awkward, Brynn--_

They both start laughing at how ridiculous they sound. It's a simple seat in a diner. Next to each other. It didn't mean anything. There was no commitment. Just two people--two very attractive people--having a late night snack. Together.

He crawls in first with her falling into place next to him. Hints of his cologne hang in the air, intoxicating her with every breath she takes, so much so that she forgets that she is staring at him.

"Do you already know what you want?" he asks as he looks up from the menu.

She quickly blinks her eyes as if to break her trance. "Um, no--I, um, what do you recommend?"

Opening the menu for her, he leans into her, causing an electric shudder to roar through her body. He points, "Their breakfasts are to die for, plus they give you generous portions." She peers down at his lips while he speaks; the way they move, the way they curve, the way they entice: she finds them painfully hypnotic, unable to look away as he speaks. He looks up into her stormy-blue eyes as they extend an invitation to stay. After a moment of silence, he clears his throat. "But I'm a sucker for any of their burgers."

"What's it gonna be, kids?" Nurse Ratched clearly got a new job as a waitress.

Sam nods at Brynn to go ahead. "I guess… I'll take the avocado bacon cheeseburger, with mayo, no tomatoes. With fries."

"Nice." His eyes brighten. "I'll have the same thing, only add a large chocolate milkshake."

The waitress finishes writing everything down, rolls her eyes before disappearing to the kitchen.

"I have to say--" he turns to face Brynn, "It's nice to see a girl that knows how to eat."

She freezes at his words before letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Did you just call me fat, Mr. Flores?"

"Geeze, no! You're--you're absolutely perfect-- I mean--" his cheeks warm with embarrassment as her stomach fills with butterflies. "I'm just saying it's nice to see a lady actually eat food--and not just salad--because they have this idea that eating more than grass makes them look like a cow."

She nods and adds, "One of the joys in life is food, right? Especially when you are sharing it with someone special--"

"' _Someone special?_ '" He sits up in the booth, straightening out his collar before clearing his throat. "The beautiful lady thinks I'm 'someone special', folks," he boasts in a jovial, booming voice.

She covers her face in embarrassment as she giggles. He takes her wrist, gently pulling her hands away from her eyes. "Don't hide from me now," he jests as their food is delivered.

"Oh my God, this looks amazing," Brynn exclaims as she mindlessly rubs her shoulders and arms that are infested with goose-pimples. She leans in to steal a fry when she feels something warm being cloaked around her. He fixes the shoulders of his sports coat onto hers so that it won't easily fall off her petite body. She wraps her fingers around the lapels, pulling the jacket more forward around her chest. She sneaks another whiff of his delicious essence and smiles. "Well, aren't you quite the gentleman--" he suddenly catches her off guard as he pushes a wayward curl behind her ear before attending to his greasy burger.

Conversation becomes easy for the couple as they continue their meal. He shares about his love for the Bills, the Yankees and the Rangers; he detests olives, but could eat his weight in pickles. Never been married, no secret children. He went to NYU where he received a degree in business in hopes to get involved with his families business--not his biological family, but the family that basically adopted him when he was twelve years old. He had an unfortunate childhood where his mother left him as a baby. Later unable to cope, his father turned to alcohol, turning him into a merciless abuser. He last saw his father when he was 16 at one of his football games. They didn't speak; they just simply saw each other across the field. Sometimes he wonders if it was just a figment of his imagination.

Brynn cautiously stays tight-lipped about her recent unfortunate circumstances. She doesn't consider it lying, but airing her dirty laundry is a poor choice for a first date. Or so she is told. That is, if this is a first date.

He grabs a spoon and helps himself to the chocolate shake. His eyes flutter shut. "Brynn--" he says with his mouth full, "You've got to try this." He scoops out a spoonful, feeding her a taste of the richly decadent chocolate ice cream. Her eyes close as she lets out a satisfactory moan. He allows the spoon to rest in her mouth for a few moments, pulling it out slowly sensually as her lips pout around the cold metal.

"Hey, um--" he leans in, "You've got something there--" He reaches up with this thumb, wiping a drip of shake from the corner of her mouth. He locks eyes with her, his gaze smoldering as he brings his thumb to his own mouth to lick off the chocolate. Her breath catches in her throat.

Waitress Ratched slams the check on the table as Brynn and Sam jump away from each other. Both quietly chuckle at each other as they escape the booth, Brynn returning his jacket to him. He insists on paying--but only if he would allow her to tip.

They _Uber_ back to _Annex_ for him to pickup his _Jeep Wrangler_. The place is still raging wildly at 1:30 AM; last call wasn't for another fifteen minutes.

They stand outside of his vehicle, skirting around the fact that the night is ending.

"I guess I better--" Brynn starts.

"Yeah, well--" he nervously chuckles. "I've already kept you out past your bedtime."

She nervously giggles, "And yours too. I'm sure you're expected at the office--"

"Bright and early. Don't remind me."

_Please, God, don't let tonight end._

She steps forward, giving him a hug, his arms securing her in a strong embrace. He kisses her cheek.

"Thanks for tonight, Brynn Schuyler--"

_Please don't leave me…_

"You too, Sam Flores."

She watches him crawl up into his _Jeep_. Each time they look at each other, they give an awkward, courtesy smile.

He slowly pulls out of his parking spot as he looks back Brynn, who is chewing on her thumb. He shifts into _drive_ when he is stunned by a loud scream.

"Wait!"

_Brynn, what the fuck are you doing? Clearly alcohol is still viciously coursing through her veins._

He stops, allowing her to approach the driver's side. "Don't leave just yet. Can you give me a minute?"

He looks confused, but nods in agreement as he parks his _Jeep_.

Brynn runs inside the club, easily finding Jenny as she cleans off table tops, collecting glasses and pitchers.

"Brynny--" clearly surprised, "What are you--"

"I need the place. Tonight. Alone."

Jenny begins to cackle with a knowing look. "Are you serious right now? With Sam the Superhero?"

"Please?" Brynn mindful that he is still waiting outside.

"Damn, alright. Get it girl. But be careful."

"Wrap it up. I know. Love you!" Brynn calls out as she runs back outside.

"Love you, too," Jenny whispers to herself, chuckling as she gets back to work.

Brynn is relieved to find that the _Jeep_ is still parked outside. She opens up the passenger door to a stunned driver. She climbs up into the leather seat. She reaches over, grabs his hand to lace her fingers with his as she kisses his wrist.

" _Drive."_


	7. Entropy, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language, Smut (NSFW!)  
> Brief lyrics mentioned: "You're So Last Summer" by Taking Back Sunday  
> \---------------->>((I thought putting lyrics to "Liar, Liar" would be too obvious))

Brynn fidgets with the keys to open Jenny's front door. She's never had an issue opening it before tonight, but with a handsome pair of eyes taking inventory of every ounce of her body, feeling nervous was an understatement. Plus, she's never been known to bring home a guy that she just met in a bar.

_Be cool, Brynn. He's just… you know, perfect. And gorgeous. Absolutely charming. And hot. And … you're just… the dumbass who can't… open… the front… door to… 'your' place… oh God, for the love of everything that is holy, door, just fucking open!_

Brynn turns around, offering a bashful chuckle, but clearly frustrated.

"Here--" he offers an understanding look, a dimple slowly winking at her from the corner of his smile as he grazes his fingers over her hands. He places his other hand on the door knob, gently lifting up as he turns the key, her fingers cradled by his. And just like with the sound of metal clicking, the door swings open. "Sometimes the heat of the sun makes the metal expand during the day."

_Oh my God, keep talking nerdy to me…_

He holds the door open, allowing her to step into her own home first. He comfortably places his hand on the small of her back as if to guide her; she prays that he doesn't notice the layer of sweat beginning to form under his touch. She plays it cool: "May I take your jacket?"

"You just gave it back to me, and now look. Already trying to get me naked--" he begins to shrug off his sports coat.

"Clearly proving to be a hard feat," Brynn quips as she takes his jacket from him to hang on their coat rack. "Would you like something to drink? We have a few half-drunk bottles of wine, _Diet Coke_ , some whiskey, water--" He sticks both hands in his pockets, giving an indecisive shrug. Brynn continues. "Or--I could make you a cup of tea."

He brightens with the suggestion. "That _actually_ sounds amazing, Brynn. Thank you."

She kicks off her cherry-red heels, and heads to the kitchen. Choosing a savory tea blend of chicory and cardamom, she fills her tea kettle with water, proceeding to ignite the burners on the stove. She starts to sing under her breath: "' _And with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your--'_ "

"What are you singing?" She nearly drops her mugs as she spins around to see the person behind the voice. He puts his hands out like a safety net in the event she couldn't wrangle up the cups. "--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No--no, I don't know why I'm so jumpy--" Brynn flashes a smile as she sets the teacups down on the counter, placing a hand on her reddening cheeks, attempting to shield her embarrassment.

He takes hold of her tiny wrist, gently pulling her hand away from her face, pining for her to draw closer to himself. "Please--" he lowers his voice. His eyes mine the diamonds in hers as she takes a long, difficult swallow. "You're doing it, again. Don't."

"Um--" she stutters with a chuckle, darting her eyes to his enticing lips, noticing how daringly close their faces are as her heart takes off sprinting, "Do--Do what?"

"Hide your beauty."

From her wrist, his fingers trail down to her hand, fitting comfortably like a glove as they loosely lace their fingers together. He pushes a loose curl behind her ear before quickly returning his hand to her face. His thumb explores the soft canvas of her skin, roaming over the pink hills of her cheeks before settling on her rose petal lips.

"Beautiful." He tenderly leans towards her, allowing his lips to skim the surface of her glossy pout.

Brynn melts into his kiss, allowing herself to be free in the moment, the butterfly of nerves escaping. The shackles of a former love breaking. Peace flooding her soul as she runs her other hand through his silky hair, deepening the kiss as her mouth slowly parts.

Steam suddenly whistles, startling both of them, their hands retreating.

_Damnit! Of course…_

After a brief moment, she begins to smirk, covering her mouth in an attempt not to giggle at her luck. He may have been annoyed by the sudden interruption, but she can't tell. He breaks first, giving a hefty chuckle, flashing his alluring smile while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Brynn promptly attends to the kettle of boiling water, removing it from the heat. She tries to fill the suddenly awkward space with conversation as she turns off the burner: "Well, um-- it's not everyday you get cock-blocked by a teapot--"

"But, not today." He firmly grasps her arm, spinning her into his embrace against his broad, firm chest. "Come here." With that, his hand fixes to the back of her neck, pulling her into a fiery kiss. His lips growl in hunger as she invites him in with a coy flick of her tongue. Gentle at first, he caresses her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.

Brynn wraps her arms around him as she begins to playfully nip at his tongue. She can feel his smile spread under her pressed lips as he softly moans.

His hands wonder down her smooth bare back until they reach her derriere. Her voluptuous curves tease him into massaging her; her soft gasps with each squeeze beg him not to stop.

He effortlessly boosts her onto the kitchen counter as they both continue their tongue and hand excavation. She hugs his body with her legs as he rubs her thighs. She pulls out her hairpins, tossing her curls loose before she drapes her arms around his neck.

He trails kisses down her chin and across her jaw. As he runs his hands through her long mane of waves, he clutches tightly to a handful, forcing her to expose her elegant neck for his next feast. Licking. Kissing. _Sucking_. He nibbles on her neck and shoulders as she embraces his head to keep him near as she closes her eyes in pleasure. With moans escaping her quickened breaths, he begins to crawl his fingers into the back of her jeans, fondling her delicate assets.

He pulls back, but just for a moment with a half smile matched with his smoldering eyes. "Brynn, is this okay?"

He is giving her an out, one last chance to turn back, one last chance to run, one last chance to say, "no." One last chance to hold up the deal she made to herself earlier in the day. But, Sam is different. She can't put her finger on it, but no way this would be the stereotypical one-night stand. This isn't the stereotypical one-night stand. He is kind, thoughtful, selfless; and now here he is letting her set the pace. They have only known each other a few hours, but he already makes her comfortable. He makes her confident. He makes her believe that falling in love is a possibility again.

A playful, seductive smile grows across her face as she gives a small nod.

His mouth meets hers as he feverishly unbuttons her jeans, ripping them off her long legs that dangle off the counter. She watches him get down on his knees as he kisses her ankles, tracing his tongue up each of her legs, clearly admiring every inch of her body as he lets out pleasurable moans with each kiss. She casually leans back on to her arms, cocking her head to the side as she bites her wet lips. He begins to suck heavily on her inner thighs, making her quiver into a puddle of gentle moans.

She lays back on the chilly, tiled counter, draping her legs over his shoulders. But he proves his impatience by shoving her panties to the side, taking as much of her juicy lips into his mouth. She arches her back with a breathy groan as he begins to lap at her slit with his girthy, wet tongue. Slow at first, tracing towards her swelling clit, he begins to nuzzle his face into _her_ , causing her to open gently, more places to kiss, more places to lick, more places to _taste_.

Her breathing becomes heavier as her eyes flutter shut. He takes two of fingers, and after placing them in his mouth, he slowly glides them into her depths before slipping them back out. And back in again. Then out.

He places his soft lips around her tender clit. He creates a gentle suction as he begins to stroke it with his tongue.

She chokes out his name, "Oh, Sam--" With a pleasurable moan followed by a whispered, "Yes," Brynn begins to buck her hips, up and down as she drips down his hand.

He begins to circle her clit with the gentle taps and laps of his tongue as he begins to insert a third finger.

She gives a deep, guttural moan as he cautiously stops, desiring to feel her climax on his growing length. He slings off his belt, and begins to unbutton his slacks; she sits up to watch, allowing her breathing to slow down. He is about to undress everything, but his desire is hushed by her hand.

"Not here--" She slinks herself off the counter, squeezing her body between his body and the cabinets. With his hips firmly pressed against her, she feels how strong his desire has grown for her. She looks up at him, biting her lower lip as she reaches down to stroke--and acknowledge--his length through his boxers.

His breath catches as he grits his teeth. "Brynn--" he whispers as he grabs her arms out of reflex.

But she wiggles out, slipping from his grasp. He turns around to track her, but luckily she hasn't escaped too far; in fact she is waiting for him to follow her. She tauntingly dances out of the room, treading lightly on her tip-toes. She takes a few steps, then twirls around to make sure he is still on the pursuit--and he is, complete with his piercing dark eyes, his tongue licking his lips. He can still taste her on his chin.

She takes a few more steps forward while taking her top off--and ripping off her cutlets--then twirls around again, holding her arm in front of her breasts. He stops in his tracks, mouthing a single word _: wow_.

She motions seductively with her opposite finger to keep following her down the hallway, her black lace panties being swallowed by the intense curves of her cheeks. He quickly unbuttons his shirt, leaving it with hers on the floor as he chases after her.

Brynn comes to the bedroom and stares at the bed.

_Eek. Sorry, Jen._

He sneaks up behind her, enveloping her with his arms. She feels his warm skin against her bare back, heating up her skin. His hardness presses against her curvy assets, exciting her senses. _Invigorating_. She turns to face him as she puts her hands on his newly exposed chest. She runs her fingers up the contour of his body, the dark hairs of his chest tickling her palms.

She presses her lips to his neck, gently teasing him with the tip of her tongue as she drags her nails down his stomach. His breathing becomes faster, deeper when her fingers begin to fondle with the elastic band to his boxers. Her mouth descends on his body, placing suckling kisses along with way as she finds herself on her knees.

He endearingly brushes her curls with his fingers as she gingerly takes his tender length out from his boxers and in her hands. She gazes back up into his eyes, seeking an approval. Instantly, he touches her warm cheeks with his hand, reassuring her as he grins down at her.

She positions him with her fingers as she starts kissing him, slowly up and down his shaft. She takes in his tip, swirling her tongue around as she suckles deeply, pulling ever-so-gently on him. She drags him out against her lips, but quickly returns the girth to her mouth, but this time guiding him deeper into the depths of her throat. Heavy grunts escape with each exhale, with each pass of himself down her throat. His fist forms, clutching onto her hair as she continues. She quickens, bouncing her head up. And down. And up. And down.

"Brynn--" he's breathless, barely getting her name out ready to spill out for her.

She takes him out of her mouth, and without missing a beat, she urgently groans, "Take me. _Now_."

He lifts her onto the bed. He then flips her onto her knees, pushing her down onto her elbows. With her voluptuous curves tantalizing in the air, he pulls down her panties. He wets himself, allowing her to drip on him as carefully places his swollen tip just inside her lips.

He grabs her hips and slowly pushes his rock-hard girth into her warm, inviting depths, forcing her to stretch beyond what she has ever experienced. Brynn's body freezes as she lets out a deep, pleasurable scream until he is completely inside.

"Are you okay, babe?" he asks between heavy breaths.

She reminds herself to take a deep breath after the shock of the feel of his width. "Yes," she exhales. "Don't stop," as she gives into her moans of ecstasy again.

He crawls up behind her, placing his legs on either side of hers. He begins to rock his hips back and forth, his length entering deeply before suddenly gliding back. He feels her relax against him, causing him to pick up the pace and depth of his thrusts.

He reaches around, gently taking her clit between his fingers.

"Oh… God." She moans, followed by a shrieking, "Oh _my fucking God_!" as he starts to massage her clit harder with each of his thrusts.

The sounds of friction and wetness engulf the air as the smell of euphoria intoxicates the couple.

"Sam-- I need--"

"Me too--"

With one final thrust inside, he utters out a cry from the bellows of his belly as he pours heavily into her, copious amounts of cum spilling down their legs. She clenches onto the sheets, attempting to stifle her screams as she feels herself tremble.

She collapses onto the bed, her body drenched in sweat. But she is quickly met by a cold, uneasy chill in her spine as she notices that she is alone.

_Where did he go?_

"Sam?" she calls out, hoping that he would crawl into bed with her. "Sam?" No response. She looks around the room; he's no where to be found.

_Fuck._

She begins to panic. She wraps a sheet around her naked body to search for him.

_Fuck. What did I do? What did I do wrong? Shit. Maybe this was too soon._

She feels her eyes begin to sting with tears. She can't believe she had been so foolish into thinking he was trustworthy. Her breathing becomes heavy as she becomes dizzy.

_This can't be happening right now._

"Hey--" he interrupts her thoughts as he walks through the doorway of the room, carrying two cold glasses of water. He sits down on the side of the bed next to her, kissing her damp hair. "I thought we could really use something to drink--"

"You left me."

"I--I was getting us water."

"But, you left me," she repeats herself.

His face falls as he notices the sadness behind her eyes. He wraps his arms around her. "Hey-hey-hey. Brynn." He kisses her shoulder. "I didn't mean-- I mean, I wasn't trying-" He sighs. "Brynn, I'm sorry. I honestly thought we both could use a drink after _that_ , trying to be a gentleman." He twirls one of her curls around his fingers.

Brynn holds up a hand in surrender as she allows her tears to dry before they fell. She is clearly wrong about being wrong. And now, she feels more awkward than ever: she has exposed her crazy, her neediness, her abandonment issues to this amazingly sweet guy.

_What's wrong with him? Any other guy would be high-tailing it out of here right about..._

"Come here, beautiful." He leans her against his bare chest as she is lulled into a calmness by the steady beat of his heart. He holds her tightly to himself, hoping to make her feel secure. He rests his chin in the field of tangled waves on her head. He breathes her in; if the beer wasn't enough earlier, the refreshing scent of aloe and coconut in her hair mixed with the remnants of her floral perfume left him inebriated.

"I swear I'm not crazy."

He nuzzles his nose deeper into her hair, relishing her aroma. "I never said you were."

"I just-- I-- I don't know--I--"

"Brynn, slow down." He absent-mindedly rubs her arm, planting sweet kisses on the top of her crown before speaking again. _"That_ was incredible. _You_ were incredible." She begins to smile again. "No doubt we both have unspoken baggage that we brought with us tonight." He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "And, well, I hope someday I can help you unpack it all."

And just like that, Brynn begins to melt again.

"But for now, all I need to know is this: don't run and grab water right after incredibly intense sex." They both chuckle as she nudges him with her elbow.

She pulls her legs onto the bed, laying down on her side. She smiles as she looks up at her _Prince Charming_.

"Brynn?" He puts his arms on either side of her body, hovering above her face. "Are you okay?"

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down in a passionate kiss. "Mr. Sam Flores," she whispers in a lower, seductive voice. "I don't know where the hell you came from." She smiles.

He chuckles nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "And, what does _that_ mean?"

"It means, ' _Will you be ready to go again in 10 minutes?_ '" She cocks her head to the side, biting her lower lip.

He snickers as he jumps into bed with her,

He _is_ perfect.

***************

Brynn startles awake to Jenny hovering over her. "Oh, good, you're alive." Jenny moves, allowing the rays of the midday sun to bore into her roommates eyes. "My bed, Brynn, did you really have to fuck in _my_ bed?"

Brynn sits up, but is startled by the excruciating pain in her head, not to mention the throbbing in her vagina. And all at once like an avalanche, nausea ensues. "Jenny, I--"

_Fuck. Puking. Now._

Brynn dashes to the bathroom completely disregarding her nakedness, making it to the toilet _just_ in the nick of time to vomit the previous evening's festivities. Jenny leans up against the doorframe.

"I hope you know you owe me new sheets, you nasty whore. I hope he was worth it."

Brynn slumps to the side of the commode, combing her hair back while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her threatening to heave again. "What time is it?"

"Slut-thirty." Jenny chuckles.

"Stop," Brynn whines in agony. "Stop judging me, and …God, just… let me die--"

She vomits again.

"Brynn Schuyler. Miss Rule-Follower. Miss 'I'm scared to have sex and fall in love again.'" Brynn glares at her best friend as another wave of vomit forces its way into the toilet. "I honestly never saw this coming, Brynny. You should be ashamed of yourself. This is so not like you--" Jenny chuckles as she dabs a fake tear, followed by a fake sniffle. "And I'm going to savor this moment for the rest of the weekend!" She tosses an old t-shirt at the remnants of her hungover friend. "And for the love, cover up your shame!"

After her stomach proved itself empty, she crawls into the living room to find Jenny. She notices her top is folded with the silicone cutlets on top, her shoes laid neatly beside it. "Thanks for gathering up my stuff. I'm sure it was thrown--"

"Oh, honey, I didn't do _that_."

_What?_

"And I'm sure you missed it, but 'Prince Charming' left you a note, some ibuprofen and a bottle of water. On _my_ nightstand."

Suddenly a surge of adrenaline fuels Brynn as she jumps to her feet. "He--" she stutters, "He did _what_?"

"Go check it out yourself. Your golden pussy whipped him into a husband."

Brynn runs to the bedside, and sure enough: on the bedside table is a bottle of water and a teacup. Inside the teacup was a dose of Motrin and a folded up piece of stationary. She carefully unfolds it:

> _You're beautiful even when you sleep. I couldn't bring myself to wake you._
> 
> _I hope you can forgive me for leaving. I had an early meeting at the office today._
> 
> _Thanks for an unforgettable night--we should do tea more often. Call me later tonight._
> 
> 555-0176

Brynn sits on the side of the bed, convinced that her knees would buckle. She lies on her back, letting out a satisfied sigh. She grabs a pillow--the pillow he laid his head on-- and wraps her arms around it tightly. It smells just like him. And she swoons.

"Oh, hey, Brynn?" Jenny walks down the hallway towards her own room. "I got a business card from this dude in a suit last night that works at some big--" she stops mid-sentence, seeing her friend motionless with a pillow covering her face. "Oh, girl. You okay? What did he say?" Brynn hands her the note.

Jenny's eyes widen. "Okay, golden pussy, spill."

"Jen--" Brynn becomes bashful. "I don't want to kiss and--"

"Nice try, but I gave up _my_ place for _you_ to be alone last night, and what did _you_ do? You fucked on _my_ sheets in _my_ bed! I have a _right_ to know." Jenny sits next to Brynn's lifeless body, crosses her legs while smoothing her hair behind her ears. "So. Spill!"

Brynn recounts the previous evening with her roomie, divulging the nitty-gritty details--by force, of course, not willingly.

"Well--" Jenny picks his note back up, "We have to call him."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa--" Brynn plucks the note out of Jenny's hands. "He's probably still at work. And--" she winces, "aren't I supposed to make him wait? You know, be mysterious? Make him chase me?"

"Girl, you had an atypical one-night stand," Jenny punches her words. "He specifically said, 'Call me later tonight.' He is expecting you!" Brynn sighs. "Do you or do you not like this guy?"

"I do, but--"

"No buts! Here. I'm going to dial him right now--" Jenny steals the paper from Brynn's hands.

Brynn steals the phone out of Jenny's hands, "No! I'm not ready--"

" _Ready?_ Ready for what?"

"Jenny, I-I need to… mentally prepare myself," she stutters, "And-and, I need to shower!"

"That's the beauty of the phone, Brynny: you can look like absolute shit, smell like absolute shit--shit, you can even take a shit, and nobody knows! C'mon!" She grabs the phone back from Brynn.

_Oh God, I'm going to be sick…_

Brynn smothers her face with the pillow again as Jenny confidently dials his number.

"It's ringing--" She whispers.

_No shit._

"Voicemail."

 _There is a God_.

Jenny's face falls. "Oh, shit."

"Hrmm?" Brynn's heart begins to race. "What is it?"

"Nothing, girl. I dialed the wrong number." She carefully presses the digits again and carefully inspects the numbers with the note. She clears her throat as the line begins to ring again. The voicemail picks up again as she proceeds to hang up. Again. "What the hell am I doing wrong? Brynn, read the number to me because clearly I am too stupid to dial a number today."

"It's a sign that you shouldn't be meddling in your best friend's business." They both chuckle.

"C'mon, read it to me."

Brynn takes the note and reads Sam's phone number slowly out loud. "Five. Five. Five. Zero. One. Seven. Six."

"Brynn--" Jenny's face deflates.

"Hrmm? What is it, Jen?"

Jenny shakes her head. Brynn's heart begins to sink, her breath catching in her throat, a heaviness crushing her chest. "Give me the phone."

"Brynn--" Jenny starts to walk away, hiding the phone behind her back.

"I said--" Brynn catches herself yelling, instantly lowering her voice in a more friendly manner. "Give me the _fucking_ phone."

Without wasting another moment, Jenny almost fumbles giving Brynn her phone.

Brynn pulls up the last number called, and presses _Send_.

" _Hey, you've reached Robin. I'm sorry I missed your call. Beautiful ladies, leave a message after the beep."_


	8. Synthetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: language; some brief sensuality

Sam crashes into a rumpled pile of resignation as sheets of sweat pour sweetly from his brow. The hypnotic rise and fall of his chest desperately beg for a sip of air as his veins visibly quiver, his heartbeat almost audible. He allows a humbly subdued groan escape from his dry, swollen lips as his ragged body journeys for mercy from his recent explosion of elation.

It had been years since he had felt the intimately soft touch of woman. Oh, how he had longed to make love again: now he lays inebriated from the smell of it, from the _taste_ of it. His fingers tingle with the long-awaited electricity as his muscles warm with a cloak of numbness. Although his fullness is hidden now, he throbs with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As he regains composure, he turns to admire his bride-to-be. Her damp golden tresses revel with life across the goose-feathered pillow; the dew from her skin illuminates her natural beauty. She casually hugs the moss-green sheet to her chest, her fingers delicately scrunching the Egyptian cotton as the brilliance of her ring refracts the night sky. Bride-to-be _. His_ bride-to-be.

As he drinks in her captivating features, he slowly melts into the realization that having his carnal cravings satisfied by Sofia Russo proves to be more complicated than at first glance.

Friends. They had always been friends. Sure, the dynamics may have changed with the ebb and flow of life, but one thing that always served as a constant was their friendship.

A small, jovial grin grows across his face as he watches her wrinkle her perfectly-enhanced nose as if to scratch it, an odd, yet adorable quirk of hers, almost like a tick.

_They took away half of that crooked thing--and it still twitches?_

He chuckles to himself as the sight floods Sam's senses of the summer he first met Sofia. Even though the sun was beginning to set, the sweltering heat was fervent. If it wasn't for a single, quiet breeze, the earth would surely ignite in a fury. Lawn sprinklers ticked like artillery shells in efforts to keep the greenery alive. The sweet fragrance of Mrs. Kerrington's honeysuckle bush perfumed the air, radiating a welcoming pleasantry down the street of the gated-community. The resounding echoes of children laughing and playing peppered the air with joy. Life seemed so simply perfect back then, back when the only thing that mattered was having the biggest _Super Soaker_ on the block. That, and having Brittany Lancaster, Dr. Jameson-Lancaster's well-developed daughter, come over to baby-sit.

A lanky, rambunctious eight-year-old Sam was armed with his water-gun and a few water balloons as he fought against _Rita Repulsa_ and her evil henchmen as a _Mighty Morphin Power Ranger_. He was joined by his good friends Jacob and Sean. They all went to the same preparatory school during the year.

"Oh no! _Jason_! We're surrounded!" pretends Jacob, fully dedicated to his role as _Zack_ , the black ranger. He army-crawls behind a rose bush with his water-gun ready to fire.

"Oh no! Not Putties--" cries Sean.

"No, Sean. I'm 'spose to say that. _I'm Jason_! You're _Billy_!" interrupts Sam, halting the game.

"But, you always get to be the red ranger--"

"--Because you're the blue ranger. You're always the blue ranger--" reasons Sam.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be the blue ranger; I want to be the _red_ ranger this time." Sean banters.

"C'mon, Sean. We can't play _Power Rangers_ without the blue ranger--" Jacob joins the debate.

Sean crosses his arms as he begins to pout. "He's a dweeb. I don't want to be a dweeb."

"He's not a dweeb. He--He's just really smart with glasses, Sean. C'mon. Don't be such a baby--" Sam begins to antagonize.

Jacob shakes his head at Sam. "--Maybe he can be the _green_ ranger--" he suggests.

"No! We agreed only the OG rangers. _Tommy_ is just a wannabe ranger," argues Sam.

"Oh, please, Sam. Can I just be the _green_ ranger? Just this once? And--and maybe _Billy_ can have the flu--"

"No! We can't be the _Mighty Morphin Power Rangers_ without _Billy_. I mean, who's going to shout, ' _Triceritops_ ' when it's ' _morphin time_ '?" Young Sam refused to give in as all the boys fall silent, staring at each other, waiting for someone to cry _'Uncle!'._

The argument is quickly interrupted by the sound of squeaky brakes. A moving truck pulls away from the Montgomery's old summer home, the house right next to the Dalton retreat. A new family must have joined the private neighborhood for the Summer. Filled with innocent intrigue, the boys start to inspect the new neighbors. Their eyes are quickly met by a pair of big brown eyes that belonged to a boy just about their age. His hair was carefully combed to the side, clearly styled by gel. He wore a _Lacoste_ collared-shirt that was carefully tucked into his belted _Tommy Hilfiger_ chino shorts, complete with _Ralph Lauren_ loafers.

"Hey--" calls out Sam as the three friends approach the stranger.

"Hey--" he responds, clearly nervous about the new environment.

"I'm Sam. And--and this is Sean. This is Jacob," nodding in their respective directions.

"My name is Tony--"

"Cool!" exclaims Sean, "Just like Tony the Tiger! ' _They're…'_ " Tony appears to deflate as Sean's comment drifts into silence. "'… _great.'_ "

A still awkwardness falls over the young boys: Jacob starts to casually look up and down the street. Sean stares at the pavement, kicking a small jagged rock. Sam keeps his eyes locked on Tony, searching for something to say as if Tony's friendship was his own personal secret mission.

"So. Um… Do you have a water-gun?"

Tony appears to brighten to the question. "Uh--yeah. My dad just bought me the _Super Soaker 200_ \--"

"Whoa--!" exclaimed the three friends. Sean continues, "With the dual full-size water tanks and adjustable nozzle settings?"

Realizing his new-found popularity, Tony quickly warms up to his new summer-time friends. "Yeah! It even has a carry-strap!"

"Wow--can we see it?" asks Jacob.

Tony turns to run inside. "Hey, Tony," he is quickly stopped by Sam. "We're playing _Power Rangers_ \--and we really need a blue ranger. Want to play?" Tony lights up with a huge smile as he emphatically nods his head, running inside.

And with that, it was _"morphin time_ " for the four boys as they ran down the street ducking behind cars and bushes, fighting off _Goldar_ , _Putty Patrollers_ , and _Rita's_ latest evil creation.

"Take _that_ , loser!" screams Sean as he blasts his soaker in the air. Jacob and Tony roll across the lawn, standing up to kick the air, ending the terror of unsuspecting evil-doers.

"And you, _Goldar_ \--" shouts Sam as he stares down an imaginary evil beast adorned in gold armor, "' _Hasta la vista, baby_!'" he pumps up his water-gun to shoot his nemesis. He points, squeezing the trigger.

"Troy--!" An unsuspecting young, overweight girl with braces, coke-bottle glasses and frizzy blonde hair bounds outside in search for her brother. Unfortunately, she is met with the powerful jet-stream of Sam's _Super Soaker_. Drenched from head-to-toe, she begins to scream, a piercing wale that would be warranted if she had actually been shot by a bullet. But, _this_ was Sofia Russo, drama queen extraordinaire, professional attention-seeker, diva.

"Daddy--!" with that, she stomps inside the house.

The four friends turn to each other, stifling snickers. "Did _that_ just happen?" utters Sam. After a few knowing-glances, the boys finally erupt into giant belly-laughs.

"I thought you were aiming for _Goldar_ , Sam," jokes Jacob, "Not _Rita 'Repulsive'_ herself!" One by one, the boys fall to the ground, hugging their aching sides, their eyes tearing from the hilarity of the situation.

" _Tony!_ \--" a sudden thunderous baritone voice beckons from the Russo's front door, quickly silencing the giggles.

Tony quickly jumps to his feet. "I better go, guys, before I get into anymore trouble from my dumb big sister." After a quick group high-five, the group disperses for the evening in preparation for the next day of adventures. Little did they know, their summer days together would turn into a lifetime of comradery and brotherhood. They would become men together, supporting each other through childhood, puberty and now navigating through the joy and the pain of adulthood.

Because Tony was part of the pack, naturally Sofia was part of the crew, often as a spectator. The other guys would pick on her--a mutual sentiment as she knew how to bite back-- but she and Sam had a special friendship; they never hurled insults at each other. They mutually enjoyed each other's company, sharing in similar interests and humor. The Daltons and Russos would joke about them getting married someday, but both Sofia and Sam never saw each other that way, and truth be told: they _still_ don't.

Feeling his gaze on her body, her eyes pop open. "What--?" Her brows furrow before closing her eyes again. "Weirdo. Are you staring at me?"

_That's Sofia._

Sam smiles at her as he turns his body towards her. His fingertips graze across her belly, gently wrapping his toned arms around her. He delicately kisses her shoulders, nuzzling his nose into her, breathing in the subtle notes of lavender on her skin.

Without hesitation, she pushes his arm off of her body, shrugging off his lips, allowing his tender kisses to crash into emptiness. 

"C'mon, Sof--" he gracefully rubs his fingers down the silky skin of her arm. He cups his hand around her hand, attempting to lace his hungry fingers with her limp fingers.

She jerks her hand away from him. She sits up on her elbows, looking down at him. "Do you mind?"

He scoffs into a chuckle. "Geeze. What the hell, _Sof_ \--?"

She grabs the rest of the top sheet, wrapping it around her body. " _God_ \--wasn’t once enough?" She retreats to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

_What in the actual fuck just happened?_

He buries his face into the sheets where Sofia once laid, the area still warm from her body-heat. He lets out a low groan of disappointment and frustration. All he wants is a little romance. He cares greatly for her; he always has--and he always will. But _love_? The love like lover's share? The love that 'conquers all'? The love that even puts fairy tale dreams to shame? The love he had--still has--for Caroline? It will _never_ happen with Sofia.

But, he at least needs romance. Just a little. If this is to be a marriage, regardless of the reasoning, he needs hand-holding, kiss-stealing affection. Mickey and Mason need to observe a strong example of love, even if it is for show; they were much too young to have ever taken note of the beauty of the love that was Sam and Caroline. Truth be told, though, the affection he craves from Sofia serves only as a reassurance that he isn't making biggest mistake of his life. It sure would serve as a nice cover to the carefully-calculated front of their _engagement_.

A little over a month ago, a drunk Sofia stumbled into Sam's office. He had already seen the news: " _Russo Industries Plummets 47 Points as Major Investor Pulls Out After Allegations of Foul Play_ ".

"I fucked up, Sam, " she wails, as she stumbles into a chair as she kicks off her bubblegum-pink _Manolo Blahnik_ pumps. "I trusted the wrong people, and--and-- I didn't even consider the need to cross-examine the quality control efforts and--and--" she lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Daddy is trying to do damage control, but _God_!" she struggles to catch her breath. "I fucked up. I _fucked_ up! I'm--I'm a fuck up." She buries her head in her embroidered handkerchief in hopes of maintaining some sort of image of dignity as she weeps uncontrollably.

Sam lets out a long, thoughtful sigh. He slowly takes a casual seat on his desk in front of her. He places his folded hands in his lap, silently waiting for her to finish this bout of tears. If he had learned anything about women from his wife, it's that you let them have their moment when they are upset. They don't need a 'Mr. Fix-It'; they need a listening ear.

He felt for her--he really did. Sam has had his own share of partnerships that went belly-up due to misguidance and falsifications. It's an ugly feeling to experience, but such is the shark tank of the business world.

After an uncomfortable amount of time of crying, Sam retrieves a cup of coffee. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sof, c'mon," he offers her the coffee. "Let's sober up."

She looks up into his handsomely kind eyes with her pained, bloodshot eyes. "But--" she stifles a sob, her voice shaky and nasally from the congestion of crying. "This was my one shot-- _my one shot_ \-- to prove to Daddy that I was capable of running the entire _goddamn_ show. He'll never--" she sniffs. "--he will never leave the company to me now."

"Sofia, sweetie," Sam scratches his 5 o'clock shadow, giving a sarcastic chuckle. "You know your dad was never--"

"I could've proven him wrong, Samuel!"

"Sofia--" Sam lets out a sigh, carefully choosing his words. "We both know your father and his-- um, views. He would rather give it to a stoned-out-of-his-mind Tony than--"

" _Shut the fuck up, Sam!"_ She throws the piping hot coffee across the room before slumping into a puddle of defeat, whimpering like a lost puppy.

Sam, although stunned by her outburst, swells with unexplainable compassion. "C'mon--" he forces her to her feet before enveloping her petite body with his embrace. Like soothing an infant, he subtly sways her in his strong embrace; her desperate gasps for air in between sobs begin to hush. He firmly plants a long kiss the top of her head before resting his cheek among her fragrant, soft curls. "Oh, Sof-- you're going to get through this."

"You don't know that--"

" _Sofia--_ " He lets go of her only to cup her wet cheeks. "Look at me." He begins to smile, his dimples popping out one by one. "I know _you_. You are one of the toughest women-- persons that I know." Sofia closes her eyes and smiles bashfully. "This is awful--I get it. But you aren't awful. You aren't a 'fuck up'. And--" he exhales, "you will get through this--"

"But--"

"Sofia, you are going to rise from this." Sam attempts to dry off her face with his thumbs. "You've always been meant for greatness--you _are_ greatness. You will rise from this."

Sofia takes a deep cleansing breath as she turns to collect her shoes and purse. " Thanks, Sam. You've always been the master at motivational speeches." She gives a coy smile, her eyes still sparkling from tears. "Oh, and--" she continues, "I'm sorry about the, you know--"

"The boiling hot lava you aimed at my face--?"

"I was not aiming for your face!" she scoffs.

"I sure hope you weren't--because your aim was _horrible_."

" _Shut up, Sam--!_ "

"--I mean, you were off by at least--five, maybe six feet!

She crosses her arms, trying to hide her smile. "Now I wish I did hit that ugly mug of yours--"

"And ruin God's perfection? I would never have recovered--"

"Oh, please, you are so dramatic--"

" _You're_ accusing _me_ of being dramatic?" Sam braces himself as she playfully slaps his arm. They both chuckle before he pulls her into another hug for goodbye.

She turns to leave his office as he sits back down at his desk, adjusting a pair of readers on his nose.

"Oh, and Sofia--" he calls out. "Let me know if you need anything."

His words freeze her in place, her polished fingers gripping the door handle, but unable to push it open.

"Actually, Sam--"

He glances above his glasses as she begins to saunter back to him. "There is something. I have an idea."


	9. Absolute Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual situations (smut); violence; language; PLEASE: this is a fairly heavy chapter, with disturbing imagery and discussion about depression and dark thoughts that is not suitable for all readers (regardless of age). Sensitive eyes and hearts, please be advised. Never forget: You matter. You are never alone. Your heartache is for a season--and seasons were created to change. <3

Brynn carefully places her black-polished toes into a warm bubble bath.

_Mmmm… this feels perfect._

The room is comfortably steamy as beads of moisture collect across her bare body; her hair rests in a carelessly elegant nest on her head. Two lone candles seductively dance in the darkness, illuminating the droplets on her skin like fireflies in a summer night sky. The deep sea of her eyes fixate on his intense, yet adoring eyes, his lips being moistened by his inviting tongue as she joins him in the oil-infused water.

She sinks into the warmth of his secure arms, resting her back effortlessly against his taut chest. She feels herself rise and fall to the rhythm of his breathing, the soothing reminder that she is _safe_ , that she is _home_.

She rests her hands on his arms that are comfortably snug around her belly. As she tilts her head over her shoulder, she is met with the grazing of his lips on her ear.

" _My love_ \--" he whispers, teasing a soft gasp from her smiling lips as her eyes flutter close.

He presses his nose into her neck as his full lips bury fiery kisses on her delicate skin. His hands wander across the canvas of her nakedness as she casually cups the back of his head, her fingers massaging through his long, dark waves.

She releases a soft moan as a hand settles on her plump breast, the other guiding her face closer to his. He meets her mouth hungrily as she playfully tugs on his damp hair. She introduces the fullness of her tongue as he kneads her curves tenderly, deliberately. Pinching her dainty nipples, he feels them harden in his grip; biting his bottom lip, she feels him harden against her thigh.

He impatiently escorts his hand to her smooth, pink mound. She whimpers against his fervent kiss, her hand suddenly clutching desperately to his.

 _"Cody--"_ she quietly cries.

"Well, well, w _hat do we have here?"_ he pesters in a soft, but terrible French accent, releasing her momentarily from his mouth as he deviously chuckles.

" _Please--?_ " she whines as her breathing quickens.

"' _Please' what, baby--?_ "

 _"Please--"_ she gasps, _"Don't stop now."_

Together with her hand guiding his, their fingers begin to tease her clit, first in gentle pats before she guides him into tracing circles. She bucks her hips against his hand as his mouth stifles her groans. He drinks in her desperate pleas as his tongue journeys into the depths of her throat.

He quickly grabs control of their playful fingers as his mouth finds her neck again.

 _"Brynn--"_ he whispers with more assertion. _"Finger yourself. Finger yourself--for me--"_ His lips crash into her neck, sucking hard; she feels the sharp pricks of his teeth biting her skin as her eyes loll into her head.

He plunges their middle fingers into the expanse valley of her lips as they travel deep inside her center before slowly returning to the surface. He quickly pushes their fingers back inside, further this time before pulling them out.

Her hand begins to retreat from the delicate pain of her tightness; but his hand pins her fingers down against her body, forcing one to dive deep again--this time, with two of his.

 _"Ohhh my God--!_ " she cries, tears welling in her eyes. Her legs clamp down around their hands, her body begging, _pleading_ for more.

Their fingers melt into her warmth, massaging deeply together, stroking her into sweet elation.

On the brink of orgasm, Brynn springs up, turning around to face her lover. As she straddles his legs, she begins to rub his hardness in the heated water.

"Brynn--" he moans as she squeezes her grip around him harder. _"My God--Brynn-- fuck--"_

And with that, she swiftly assists his length to penetrate her fully. The sudden solid grip of her body around his stiffness releases undecipherable groans from his mouth.

_"My dirty girl--"_

She starts to rock her hips as the bath water carelessly laps and sloshes against their bodies.

 _"Fuck, Cody--you feel--"_ a boisterous moan escapes her body as her body swallows his girth easier with each thrust. Her breasts violently bounce against her chest as he bucks his hips into her

_"What do you feel, Brynn?"_

She whimpers, trying to muster up coherent words, but the build up of ecstasy renders her to a humble groan. She slides him back in again.

 _"Tell me, Brynn--"_ he commands. _"What do you feel?"_

_"I feel--I feel-- oh God, don't stop--!"_

_"'Stop' what, Brynn?"_ his voice sneering as he throbs inside her.

_"I'm--I'm--!"_

Abruptly, her words are swallowed; darkness like an avalanche crashes around her. The deafening hum of being under water stuns her senses. She battles hungrily for oxygen as she breaks from her watery dungeon.

Pushing her drenched hair off of her face, she frantically gasps. She frantically coughs. Hard. Her body chokes, rejecting the droplets that crashed so suddenly into her lungs.

But before she knows it, the familiar hum--now a buzzing-returns to her ears. Her eyes sting from the sudsy water as she frantically searches for a way of escape. She fights, pulling her head up again, choking, gasping for air.

" _Cody--?"_ she whimpers, beginning to cry in terror,

_What happened? Where did he go?_

A heavy weight pins her legs against the bathtub. Before she realizes it, there he is, peering down at her with a horrifying look of hatred, a look of evil, a look she had never encountered before tonight. He plants his weight on top of her defenseless, vulnerable body. 

Her head is plunged back into the water, as she develops a nagging, painful tugging against her scalp. With her burning eyes clamped shut, she searches her head with her hands, finally gripping the culprit of the new onset of agony: his hand.

He drags her head out of the water one last time, long enough to hear her gasp for her life. He shoves her back under the foamy water, only this time with no clear intentions of letting go. 

Brynn feverishly thrashes her claws, first at his arms, then at his face to no avail. She tries to kick her legs, but he is much too strong, much too heavy for her to overcome. She struggles to hold her breath as bubbles escape with her uncontrollable cries for mercy.

_I'm going to die!_

She fights, but her vision becomes blurry.

She fights, but darkness clouds her thoughts.

She fights, but all sounds begin to muddle. 

Her strength seeps from her broken body as a rush of water floods each nostril in her desperation for air.

Everything begins to move in slow motion, as her body begins to fall limp.

_No! This can't be it! This can't be the end! Help me--someone, anyone! Please! Hear me! Help me!_

Brynn jolts awake, gasping for air as her body glistens of sweat.

_Holy fuck._

A sleeping Jenny rattles awake. "Brynn--?" Her eyes adjusts to the darkness, finally noticing Brynn's trembling. "Oh my _god,_ Brynn--?" Jenny throws her arms around her terrified friend ."Shhh--" She whispers. "It's okay. You're awake now." Her voice trails off as Brynn collapses into her best friend's hold; Jenny softly combs her fingers through Brynn's damp hair. " _You're awake now."_

It has been four days since Brynn discovered that her white knight was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her depression had reached a new low, dragging her into a place of painful darkness that was infiltrating her thoughts and, now, her dreams.

The emptiness, this grief she was experiencing was not because she simply had a bad date; sure, the unfortunate meeting of 'Sam' or Robin (or whoever he was) was most definitely the cherry on top of what has been undoubtedly the worst year of her life. Lose your job? Check. Lose your boyfriend? Check. Lose your home? Check. Lose yourself? Check. And now, she had allowed herself to be excruciatingly vulnerable to another man, and he stole from her: her security, her comfort, her hope, not to mention she felt physically dirty.

Brynn was just beginning to dust herself off from the traumatic collapse of what used to be her life. And then she met _him_. And he was kind, well-spoken--and funny. Gosh, was he funny. His charm matched his looks. He gave her the false-reassurance that maybe--just maybe-- someone would put her first, that maybe she would never be hurt again, that maybe she was worthy of goodness in her life, who knows? Maybe for the rest her life.

But what haunts even more now is she has lost touch with _herself_. She _knew_ better. How could she have been so foolish? She was aware she was fragile and vulnerable. She was just starting to see the metaphorical light. Did that lure her into a false-sense of strength? Of hope? She _knew_ better. She wasn't ready for this. For any of this.

Like a turtle retracting into his shell, she feels as if she is suffocating. The place is surrounded by her demons, evil monsters with sharp teeth, slithering long tongues with claws. They tower threateningly over her broken body. They gnash their teeth and flex their brut strength as they prepare to devour her. They spew putrid lies of self-hate to her, terrifying her, leaving her with hopeless thoughts of letting go. Worthless. Pointless. Undeserving of love. 

The burning rays of daylight pour through the window. There's a rapid knock on the apartment door, but Brynn doesn't stir. Jenny carefully crawls out of bed, kisses her friend on the forehead before heading to the door.

"Hey, baby--" she motions for Xavier to come inside the doorway.

They hadn't seen each other in four days, which for them in the infancy of their relationship was a big deal. She missed him fiercely, but Brynn is family; she never asked, but Jenny knew that Brynn needed her. And lucky for Jenny, Xavier is painfully understanding; plus, he cares for Brynn, too.

"I brought bagels and shmears. And there's a coffee for Brynn if, um, you know--" Jenny squints her eyes, tilting her head. "Is this too much? It is, isn't it? I should've called. I should've--"

"No, no. It's perfect--" Jenny chuckles with tearful eyes. "I just-- didn't realize I was dating the most thoughtful man in the world." He leans down to capture a tender kiss as she wraps her arms around his waist. "Thank you for doing this." He hugs her, caressing her head against his broad chest before heading to the kitchen.

"How's she doing today?" Xavier asks innocently as he unpacks breakfast.

" _I'm_ doing fine--"

Xavier and Jenny startle to the deep, croaky-voice of a disheveled Brynn entering the room. Her old favorite UMass shirt is littered with holes and, not to mention, inside-out, and her sweatpants were stained with last night's tomato soup that Jenny insisted she eat. Her steps make a swishing-sound as she drags her slipper-wearing feet across the laminate floor.

"Hey, X."

The two continue to watch Brynn pour herself a glass of water.

She stops mid-gulp, "What?" sounding defensive. Her friends force a grin as they shake their heads in a desperate attempt to play it cool.

She approaches the table with the fresh pastries.

"Are you two not going to invite me to the party?"

"Of course, Brynn--" Jenny instantly prepares her a bagel as Xavier pours a cup of coffee. "Come sit down--"

"Okay, stop. Stop." Jenny and Xavier carefully look back up at the shell that used to be Brynn. " _I'm_ fine."

They continue to stare, giving her courtesy smiles.

" _I'm_ fine," her voices becomes louder, more demanding.

Jenny starts to slowly nod her head, "Of-Of course, you are, Brynny." Xavier averts his eyes as he quietly tends to his glass of juice.

"For _fuck's sake,_ I'm not fucking glass--" she mutters under her breath.

Xavier and Jenny's eyes meet, stained with worry. This wasn't Brynn; this wasn't like her at all.

The three of them sit in silence as they continue prepping their bagels.

" _Damnit_!" Brynn accidentally drops the knife while spreading her shmear. As she reaches to pick it up, she knocks over the coffee poured for her. "Damnit!" her voice trembling with frustration. She reaches for the paper towels to cleanup her mess, nearly falling out of her seat when Xavier intervenes.

"Okay. Enough. That's enough, Brynn." He grabs her wrist as if to stabilize her.

"Let go of me, X!" Her tongue drips with the venom of a viper, the sharpness of a blade. Her words are encrusted with hate as she fights back her tears--and his strong grip.

He doesn't let go. His voice carries a firmness now. "Brynn, _stop_ it. _Now_."

"Let--go of--me!" She continues to struggle, twisting and contorting her arm like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Jenny interjects. "Baby--! _Stop_!"

But, Xavier refuses to let go; instead, he pulls a feisty, swinging Brynn to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tight. "Brynn--shhhhh! It's alright." She finally submits to his embrace, becoming docile. Her tears begin to fall, pouring like a waterfall from her stormy blues. "Shhhhh--it's alright, baby girl. I've got'ya."

A guilty calmness washes over Brynn as her sobs are welcomed freely and lovingly by her new friend. The demons frantically scratch at the door of her thoughts, snarling, gnashing their teeth at her. She can feel the heat of their breath on her neck, desiring to pull her under, conspiring to drown her. They hurl their insults, scream obscenities., demand her to give up.

But as Xavier tightens his embrace around her, something more powerful shields her, something more powerful wars for her. Love. Though she is weak, the love of her friends make her strong. Though she is broken, the love of her friends desperately look for pieces to put her back together. Despite her erratic behavior, despite the darkness, despite the lies the monsters whisper to her, despite being _Brynn_ , she is loved.

Xavier gently rocks Brynn in his arms. His voice now a gentle whisper, "Brynn, you're _not_ fine."

She looks up at him with her last fiber of fight: "But--I _am_! I _am_ fine! I'm--I'm--" Rivers course her cheeks as she finally rests her weary head on Xavier's shoulder. She wraps her arms around him, her knuckles turning white from gripping his shirt tightly.

He leans his head against hers as he gently rubs her back. "I know, baby girl. I know. You're _not_ fine. And-- _that is fine_."

They sit there for what seems like an eternity, but there was no other place any of them would rather be. No words are spoken, no movements made. Their unity in silence is soothing, bracing her bruised and battered soul for mending, for _healing_. 

Brynn eventually lulls to sleep, beautifully broken in his arms; Jenny is not far behind as she rests her head on the table.

Brynn startles awake. It's dark outside; she's laying on the couch covered with an old afghan while Jenny sips a glass of _Merlot_ on the edge of the couch next to her.

"Ugh... what time is it?"

"Quarter-past nine. You've been out all day."

 _Damnit. I hadn't planned on that_.

"It's okay, sweetie.," She grabs hold of Brynn's hand. "You _needed_ it--after this morning."

"Yeah, about that--" Brynn rubs her eyes, "I am so sorry, Jen--"

Jenny shakes her head, waving her hand as if to dismiss the apology.

"Is Xavier still here?"

"He just left. He's been watching after you all day."

_Damnit. Now I'm Jenny's weird friend…_

"He cares the world about you--" she continues.

Brynn smiles, "I think it's because he _loves_ you--"

Jenny's smile crawls across her face until it lightens the room with it's beaming light. "Do you really think so?"

The friends share in a knowing-chuckle as they hug each other.

Brynn sniffs her armpit. " _God_ , I need a shower--"

"Well, now that you mention it--" Jenny pinches her nose as Brynn tosses a throw pillow at her head. "Let me grab you a fresh towel from the dryer."

Brynn sits up, feeling refreshed for the first time in several days. She can still feel the darkness; she senses the sharp fangs, ready to pounce, but she knows that this feeling, this ugliness is temporary. This is not who she is. And on top of everything else, she has people who love her. _Deeply_. Regardless of her depression, regardless of her short-comings, regardless of her failed attempts in life. Brynn is loved.

"Oh, hey--" Jenny calls out from the other room. "Remember that guy I told you about? The one in the suit? Gave me a business card for some big fancy-shmancy company?"

"Um… it rings a bell."

"I left that business card on the coffee table for ya. You should totally give them a call in the morning."

Brynn picks up the card:

**David Hersell**

**Marketing Project Manager**

**DALTON ENTERPRISES**

**New York City, New York**

**555-5001**

Brynn turns up her nose. "And say what exactly, Jenny?"

"I don't know." She sits next to her on the couch with a basket full of clean clothes and towels to fold. "He said they were hiring lots of science-y positions." She shrugs as Brynn inspects the card. "It's worth a shot. Maybe this is it. Maybe--this is the _catalyst_ you've been needing for your life to take a different direction, for good things to start happening."

"Since when do you use big words like 'catalyst'?" Brynn giggles as she raises an eyebrow.

"I guess my roommate is rubbing off on me." She giggles as she jokingly slaps Brynn's arm.

"Oh, God, ew!" Jenny pulls out a single black dress sock from the laundry. "Is this _his_?"

"Oh, _God_ , throw that shit away!"

Jenny rolls it up, and heads to toss it in the trashcan. "Hopefully that's the only thing he left behind," she calls out from the kitchen. "Thank _God_ you used protection."

Brynn freezes with a fresh towel in her hand, her eyes beginning to dart back and forth. They had sex twice that night, but for the life of her and her stupid tipsy brain, she couldn't remember if he had used a condom.

"Yeah," she forces a chuckle. "Thank God."

 _Fuck_.


	10. Alchemy, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: language  
> Brief lyrics mentioned: "True Colors" written by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly, made popular by Cyndi Lauper

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

Sam instinctively jerks his head up. His tousled waves take on a shaggy-appearance as his hair is matted to one side of his head. He carefully peels back his eyelids in an effort to detect the early morning offender that so rudely sliced through the silence to interrupt his slumber. He accidentally fell asleep waiting for Sofia to emerge from the bathroom after she adamantly denied his tender advances to cuddle after intimacy.

He rests his head in his hands, rubbing the ache of exhaustion from his eyes.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt_

Sam hates being disturbed on the phone first thing in the morning. It's not because of the obvious: he enjoys early mornings. They are usually quiet and offer him time to think and reflect before he is swept up into the hustle of business, before he is bombarded with the incessant decision-making that comes with being the CMO. Plus, now that the boys are a little older, he is able to hit the gym downstairs privately.

In Sam's book, no good can come from an early morning phone call. The sound of his phone vibrating in the dark sends an electric shock through his body, a nervousness caused by a past trauma that will forever haunt him. It's been five years--five tough years. The memory of that morning, the events that transpired the previous night, are etched in his brain like an obnoxious tattoo.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

"Robin--?" Sam nervously answers his phone with an uneasy pit growing in his gut as the room becomes stifling.

_Why is Robin calling at 5:12 in the morning?_

_"Sam--?"_ There's a deafening pain in his voice. "It's Caroline--"

"What about her? Is she with you? Is she okay--?"

"I don’t know, Sam. She's, um-- with the police--"

"The _police--?"_ Sam had never heard anything more absurd. Caroline is a model citizen, a rule follower. She was perfect.

Sam quickly calls Carter, his newly hired driver. Without hesitation, the kind-natured man is there to watch after the boys so that Sam could retrieve his wife from jail. As thoughts of a locked-up Caroline flash through his aching, weary head, Sam recalls the previous night's events.

_How did we end up here?_

It is 8:07 at night. Her exhausted body startles awake from her favorite rocking chair by an overworked-Sam coming home late from the office.

"No--you listen to me, Kenny, they either accept that 7.5% or no deal--!" His heavy stomps mixed with his furious shouts echo through the entire penthouse. "It's complete horse shit! 2.5% is complete horse--! Then, get Paolo on the phone and tell him no deal then--! That's what I pay _you_ for!"

_Snap! Snap!_

Caroline snaps her fingers at a fuming Sam; when she steals a glance, she places a single finger over her mouth as she glares at him. But, unfortunately it's too late. First Mason starts with a wail--he hates the dark--quickly followed by Mickey crying, _"Mommy!"_ incessantly.

"Oh my _God_ \--" she mutters under her breath as her eyes tingle with the threat of tears. Sam continues to yell at his project manager in the kitchen as she carefully balances herself to a stand. "C'mon, _little guy_ , " as she soothingly scratches her growing bump, "I'll calm down your big brothers if you can calm down your dad."

Sam pours himself two-fingers of whiskey, pulling a quick sip as the conversation continues in his earpiece. He hates yelling, but not as much as investors changing contractual obligations, essentially stealing his money.

"No-- No--for the third?--the fourth? Okay, fine--then, we will plan on that--I'm counting on you. Do not let me down with _this_ , Kenny--you, too." He ends the heated call, dramatically ripping his Bluetooth off his ear.

He shoots the rest of his pungent drink, naturally making him wag his head like a dog. He opens the refrigerator door absent-mindedly as anger courses through his veins. And there it is: he's greeted with a handsome plate of leftovers, covered with plastic wrap and a freshly finger-painted picture on top, made with two sets of very familiar tiny fingertips. A smile breaks on his face, growing as he is brought back to reality.

He looks towards his sons' room; a soft, quiet voice sooths their cries. He begins to carefully tip-toe down the hall.

_"You with the sad eyes: don't be discouraged…"_

Caroline couldn't carry a tune in a bucket; but her voice as she settles the boys into their cribs for the evening, could easily challenge the melody of any chorus of angels. It was perfect. She was perfect.

_"…show me a smile then. Don't be unhappy…"_

Sam sneaks into the room, wrapping his arms around his wife. He rests his tired hands on her belly, resting his chin against her temple. She rests her hands on his, relaxing into his embrace as they begin to sway to her quiet singing.

 _"…I see your true colors…"_ She turns her head, kissing the tip of Sam's nose. She stifles a giggle as he playfully squeezes her into a tighter embrace.

He grazes his mouth against her ear. With his deep, sensual voice, he quietly chimes in with the refrain _"… and that's why I love you…"_

The sound of her husband's voice--not the shouting, anger-filled prick from earlier-- _this_ man, _his_ tender voice elicits a quiet moan from her lips.

After ensuring that the babes were fast asleep, Sam grabs the baby monitor as his wife follows closely behind him, sneaking her fingers into his belt loop.

Sam stops. "And what do you think you're doing, _Missy_?"

She giggles as she faces him. She stares adoringly into his piercing eyes as her hands climb his chest. "Oh, you know--" she begins to unbutton his button-down, "--just wanting my hot husband all to myself--" Before she can finish undoing his shirt, he closes his hands around hers.

"Care--" he brings her hands up to his mouth, peppering her hands with kisses. "I _need_ to finish this counter-proposal for Paolo--"

She freezes in rejection as she bites her lower lip. "Okay--well, um--can I fix you some coffee? Heat your dinner?"

He places his heads on either side of her head, kissing her forehead. "Don't you worry yourself. Go on to bed, love."

She lets out a deep sigh and stares at him as he wonders back into the kitchen to pour himself more liquor.

He freezes mid-gulp feeling her gaze. "What--?"

"Nothing. Nevermind--" as she turns towards the bedroom.

"No--" he grabs her elbow pulling her to his body. "We're not playing _this_ game tonight." He lifts her chin for their gazes to match.

She casually massages her belly as she takes a big breath. "Sam, I am so proud of you--y'know that, right?"

He smiles, giving an understanding nod.

"--you provide for us, work so hard for us--gosh--" she stops herself as she wipes away her tears.

"Caroline, what is it?"

She stops, searches his eyes as she lets out a big exhale. "It's--It's you, Sam--"

"Huh--? What are you--"

"Let me finish--"

Sam takes another sip of his whiskey, not taking his eyes off of his bride.

"--I understand this business deal with _Russo Industries_ is huge. Sof has filled me in on the details. She even mentioned something about a potential merger--"

His eyes widen when he realizes she knows confidential future information. "Sweetie, you don't need to worry yourself about my affairs--"

"I'm your _wife_ \--" she bites back at his words. "--I am _supposed_ to worry about my husband and all of his affairs."

"--okay," he sits down at the dining room table. "What do you want to know?"

"Don't patronize me, Sam--"

"Caroline--! I'm not--" he finishes the rest of his drink. "Why don't you tell me what this is _really_ about?"

Tears stream down her face as she crosses her arms across her chest. "I just miss you, Sam--"

"I'm here--I'm right here, Care--"

"No. I need you here when you are here. Not on your computer," he rolls his eyes, and scoffs. "--don't you _dare_ dismiss me like that--"

"Caroline, I didn't--!"

"--I don't want you here if you're going to be screaming on work calls, waking up the whole _damn_ house!" She rests her delicate hand on her bump. "But--I need you here, Sam--" she shutters with a soft sob. "--I can't do this on my own, Sam--"

"Care--" he grabs her hand, pulling her onto his lap as she begins to cry harder.

"--I just feel so lonely--"

"Care--I'm--I'm so sorry. I know we haven't been able to spend much time together, but I just--I didn't realize--" his voices trails to a whisper, "--it had gotten this bad."

They sit in silence. She rests her head against his. This wasn't the first time they had this fight. When Sam was offered the promotion to CMO the previous year, they had plenty of late conversations about what was best for their family. Sure, it was an incredible opportunity; being a Dalton, they were never in need, but a promotion like this would set them up for life, the whole family. Plus Sam had spent his entire business career since college to prove himself worthy for such a prestigious position.

But, the boys were still infants, and even though Caroline agreed to stay home, she feared she would quickly become a single parent while Sam simply passes through during the night. But she couldn't deny him this. He has worked hard, and she was so unbelievably proud of him. And she also had to see it from his perspective: he was sacrificing a lot, too. He was sacrificing first steps, first foods, pediatrician visits. But, it would be worth it. It _had_ to be worth it.

The overnight business trips became week-long, flights quickly turned from domestic to international. Sam spent most nights in hotels rather than in the comfort of his own bed. He was incredibly successful, and _Dalton Enterprises_ grew substantially that year. However, more clients meant more time away from home.

And then they were expecting again. Caroline was convinced it was the universe playing a cruel joke on her, especially after all the years suffering with infertility. _Why now?_ They didn't want any more children, at least for now. She secretly considered not telling Sam, taking care of the pregnancy privately. Their family was already struggling; another baby was a terrible idea especially with the twins not even a year old yet.

But Caroline allowed Sam's excitement and loving arms convince her that _they_ could do this. He promised her he would cut back on traveling, and he made good on his word. He was home more often; but what was the point of being home if he was still working until at least ten every night?

"I need some air--"she breaks the silence.

"Care--" he rubs her belly, searching her eyes.

"I'm okay-- I just need a moment--"

"Care--it's after nine--"

"I know," she presses her lips to his before bounding to grab her jacket. "I just need a minute away."

"Sweetie--" he chases her to the door. "Where are you going?"

She sighs, "I don't know--but I won't be long." She steals a peck from him, but he grabs her hand. He spins her back to his body where their lips meet again, only this time with more hunger.

"I love you, Care--"

"I love you, Sam--"

They kiss once more as he massages her bump. "Take care of my boy--"

Hours later, a distressed Sam paces a hole in the hardwood floor of his state-of-the-art stainless steel kitchen. He has already wiped and sanitized every possible surface in the place. The hum of the dishwasher swishes and grinds, creating a mind-numbing white noise as his busy mind roars with fear, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. And his multiple rounds of whiskey.

She had been missing for six hours now. Everytime he rang her cell, the call went straight to the cheerful welcome message on her voicemail. He knew she was frustrated with him, but this was a new level of anger.

_Where are you? Where--where could you have possibly gone?_

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

The vibration of his cell phone ripped him from the painful memory, releasing him back into reality

_5:32. Damnit, Robin…_

He answers, "What did you do this time?"

_"Well, good morning to you, too, asshole."_

Sam smirks to the comment.

Robin continues, _"I'm driving in for that meeting--"_

"Driving in--?" interrupts Sam. Robin lives in a loft a few blocks over.

 _"Yeah--um--"_ he chuckles, _"I had too much to drink last night--"_

"Uh-huh--"

_"So, I stayed with one of the guys in Newark--"_

"Uh-huh--" a brief silence falls into the conversation.

_"Hello--?"_

"I'm here. But, Rob, I'm not stupid--"

_"Can we not talk about this right now?"_

Sam lets out a chuckle. "What do you need, Flores? It's--5:33--"

 _"I was calling to remind you of that meeting with_ Xander Labs _this morning--"_

"Shit! Rob--shit--!" Sam stumbles out of bed, grabbing for a pair of slacks.

_"I figured you'd forget, especially after celebrating your new engagement to my wife--"_

"Ex-wife--"

_"She was my wife, Sam--?_

"And you fucked that up, didn't you? Kinda like the poor girl you charmed into bed last night--"

 _"Listen, brother-dearest, we will see you at 7--_ "

"Wait, Rob--"

_"Hrmm--?"_

"Brief me please--?"

_"Wow, she must've gotten really good in bed--"_

"Rob--"

 _"Okay, okay. Let's see._ Xander Labs. _They are developing connector pieces--kinda like hinges on a door that are anti-microbial with an internal mesh that can with stand two-tons of pressure. Hoping for better infection rates especially for the relaunch of the_ Nightingale--"

"Thanks, Rob--"

_"I've got you, big bro. I've always got you--"_

"You too, bro--"

_"Wait, Sam-- let's not have another Berlin mishap--"_

Sam chuckles, remembering how he accidentally called some potentially important clients from Germany "worthless swine."

_"I'll text you the contact. See ya--!"_

Sam buttons up a fresh white Oxford as he calls Carter to pick him up in fifteen minutes. Sliding on his loafers, he desperately tries to style his hair with a comb, creating a frizzy mess.

_Damnit, Dalton genes…_

He grabs two strawberry pastry tarts before knocking on the boys' bedroom door. "Sorry, guys! Time to get up--!" He packs a duffle bag with their shoes, clothes, addition flash cards and Mason's inhaler. "C'mon, boys--we gotta move--"

"--but Daddy, I'm still sleepy--" whines Mickey, breaking into a large yawn.

"You can sleep in the car--"

"Is it still night time?" questions Mason.

"Boys, please, I'm _begging_ you, move--!"

Sam loads himself as well as his two miniature zombies into the car.

"Morning, Mr. Dalton--" chimes Carter.

"Hey, Carter--thanks for coming on such short notice--"

"No problem, sir. Coffee--?"

"How did you--"

"From the sound of your voice on the phone, it sounded like you needed it more than me--"

" _God_ , you're the best--"

"And now that I see you, you may want to zip up the fly of your slacks, sir--"

The boys giggle as Sam quickly adjusts himself.

"Okay--" Sam continues. "We got our seatbelts. Mason's got his glasses. We've got breakfast--" he passes the pastry treats to the boys.

"Cool--!" The twins cheer with excitement as they start feasting in delight.

Sam slumps his head against the window savoring the silence amongst the chaos of the morning. He begins to prepare himself for what is already starting out as a hectic day.

_Bzzt. Bzzt._

Sam checks his phone; he finally received Robin's text message about the contact he was meeting with this morning:

**_Cody Blakenship from Xander Labs Inc._ **

**_It's in English. Hopefully u can't fuck that up. ;-)_ **

_Cody Blakenship… that shouldn't be a hard name to remember._


End file.
